


Swapping Cloudy Days for Sunshine Rays

by nonstophamilhams



Series: The Adventures of Sunshine Boy and Moonlight [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - No Band, Bodyswap, Drinking, HEX - Freeform, Like, M/M, Marijuana, Narcissism, Nightmares, Oblivious, Pining, Slightly - Freeform, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Voodoo, brendon is a maned wolf for a bit, brendon is a momma's boy, brendon is a rich kid kinda, but its not dyed, college kids, ends with him having his quiff, gabe being a loving asshole to william and brendon, gabe is brendons dad away from dad, gay shit, he has the hair he has now, if that makes sense, not responsible!brendon, oh his shoes and hats are his babies, patrick has a job, patrick has his post hiatus hair, responsible!patrick, siska is a little douche sometimes but they love him anyways, starts with brendon having his p.o. hair, these kids r v oblivious though what the fuck, william is brendons mom away from mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonstophamilhams/pseuds/nonstophamilhams
Summary: Most days, Patrick and Brendon got along like the sun and the moon.Today was not like most days.-------My friend gave me an idea. Here it is, haha. Brendon and Patrick do a bodyswap.How the fuck will they get through it, you ask?Who knows. But they'll find out something.They're smart cookies.





	1. you stress me out

Most days, Patrick and Brendon got along like the sun and the moon. They had a mutual understanding on what was to happen when, how it was to happen, and who was to do it. They had been roommates for two years, from their senior year of high school to their now-ending freshman year of college. They rarely had arguments- and when they did, it was about Brendon staying out too late or not getting enough sleep, or Patrick unhealthily taking care of other people before himself. Yes, most days, they got along perfectly.

Today was not like most days.

“Brendon, I know it was here!” Patrick shouted. He had been scouring through the apartment for twenty minutes, trying to find his ridiculous hat and his other shoe. Brendon had been sitting seriously on the couch, nose stuck in his AP Psychology book, studying. “I don’t have it!” Brendon shouted back, his voice distracted as he focused. They both had tests today- their finals. Brendon had his Psychology at three, Patrick had his Music Appreciation at noon. It was ten in the morning.

Patrick rushed through the room again. It was obvious he was aggravated, from the huffs he kept letting out to his annoyed groans when his searches ended up fruitless. “Brendon, can you please help me find it!?” Brendon frowned, brows furrowing, “Kind of busy, dude.” Patrick groaned again, “You’re always kind of busy! Your fucking test isn’t until three!” Brendon finally picked his head up, glaring at the shorter, “I’m sorry that I want to fucking do good on my test!” 

Glared aquamarine stared back at him, glazed over with the promise of frustrated tears, “Well you can study later, fucking help me! If you would quit going out and partying with Pete and Dallon all the time, you wouldn’t be in this fucking conundrum!” Brendon felt his lip curl up in a slight snarl. Patrick rarely pulled something else in the middle of their argument, never to this level. “Fuck you! Maybe if you put your shit in the spot it was supposed to go, you wouldn’t have this problem!” 

It was a remark pulled right out of Brendon’s ass, and they both knew it. Patrick was very specific about where his stuff went. It was Brendon that was sloppy, out of the two of them. “I _did_ put it in the spot! It’s not my fault _you_ show up drunk and high and God only knows what else at deathly hours of the night and have me sitting around scared as fuck that I’m going to be told you were found dead in a ditch!” Patrick shot back. His cheeks were reddening with his anger, his gaze a cold stare. The tears that finally dripped from them and down his face were ignored.

It took Brendon a second to process what the words had to do with the argument. Then it clicked. Patrick was blaming him for unknowingly moving something in the night, after a party. Brendon immediately got defensive, visibly bristling, “I didn’t fucking touch your shit!” He almost screamed the words, his book forgotten as he stood. He was a few inches taller than the other, so he almost towered from even this far away. 

Patrick’s movements were cool and calculated as he crept around the couch and to Brendon. Their height difference was only more evident as hard eyes inspected his every mood, reading him like a book- like the one Brendon had just been reading. Brendon felt his mood waver- more a want to apologize. His stubborn nature forced him to resent those feelings and he hardened his walls. When Patrick was right in front of him, close enough that Brendon could feel the shorter’s hot breath tickling his naked chest, his stubbornness almost lost. 

Patrick’s face was heartbreaking. Annoyed sapphires held something behind a wall of azure flames that Brendon couldn’t dissect. Salty tears bore their mark on near-rose red cheeks, though the red hurt Brendon. It wasn’t the sweet pink that would overlay pale cheeks when they were hazy and sleepy and fumbling around on the couch during a movie with drunken movements ending up them both happy and curled together, just to wake up in the morning without many memories and feelings ignored.

Nor was it the soft scarlet that engulfed him when Brendon would pick about hearing Patrick doing things that would be unspeakable to other people- from soft moans to breathy whines that were kept between them like an inside joke, and tended to keep Brendon sane when Patrick was gone. Or when he was on the other side of the thin wall, his ear against it and pearly canines digging deep into a swollen bottom lip.

No, this was an aggressive crimson that swallowed cream skin whole and gave off enough heat for the both of them. 

In his over analyzation of his best friend’s face, he failed to notice the small hand aiming for his own. A stinging took over his left cheek, making him recoil in shock, holding his own hand up to it. He wasn’t sure if the water welling up in his eyes was from the physical or mental pain. Patrick had never hit him- not seriously. Even when he was dared to fight Brendon, he had refused wholeheartedly and ignored the whole idea of even hurting a hair on Brendon’s head.

Patrick’s hard gaze instantly softened, though. The flames died down to a low spark of embers just under the surface. He went to pull a hand up to Brendon, just for the taller to step back and away from him. The idea of Patrick touching him both made him want to vomit, and want to curl up into his embrace. Without a word, Brendon picked up his book and walked briskly to his room. He put the book on his bed, ready to walk to the door to close it when he saw Patrick’s fedora sitting on his desk beside a black Converse. 

He grabbed the fedora and, with a slight afterthought, the shoe. The shoe flew out of his room, the hat following quickly afterwards. He didn’t say a word, slamming his door. He would have locked it if he could, but he and Patrick had made a promise not to. In case one of them needed the other. But he needed to be as far away from Patrick as possible, to put as much space between them as he could. Yet he didn’t lock the door. Because he didn’t break promises. 

He sat on his bed, heard a muffled thanks from outside of his door, and tried to go back to studying. He would have succeeded, were it not for the overwhelming guilt in his gut. It had, in fact, been his fault that Patrick didn’t have his stuff. It had been all his fault. And Brendon couldn’t even remember why the things were in his room. 

 

Two rolled around much too quickly, Brendon’s phone alerting him of the time. Patrick had left, come back, and left again. They hadn’t exchanged a word. Brendon finally pushed the book away from his lap, into the clutter of papers around him. His notebook followed in quick succession, on top of the textbook. He needed a shower and to get over to his class. 

Shower first, taking twenty minutes. He sang to keep time. Clothed in ten. A snapback covering damp hair that wanted to curl, black skinny jeans, old Metallica muscle tee he had stolen from Pete, combat boots on his feet. His walk to class took fifteen minutes, twenty if he stopped at the cafe and got something to calm his jittering nerves. He decided to stop at the cafe.

He dropped into a seat near the back with five minutes to spare. In that five minutes, he scrolled on his phone to check a few last-minute things. Notes he had taken just before leaving and during his studying. It was too soon that he had to take the test. He flew through it, finishing before half an hour had passed. He pushed his phone into his back pocket and grabbed up his cup, picking up his test and dropping it onto his professor’s desk without a word before briskly trailing out of the room.

He flopped out on the couch when he got back to the apartment, sighing. His cup had been discarded on the walk back, his hat dropped to the table beside the door when he walked in the place he called home. He was greeted to silence, originally. Until he sat and listened for a moment. Little sighs and soft moans escaped out into the still air, trailing from the other room. He raised a brow and stood, creeping to his room. The sounds got a little louder, a little breathier, when he walked into his bedroom.

He blinked and, after a moment of inner debate on if he would really be a creep, decided to move the little crate that was against their shared wall. A small hole had been placed in the wall, from where Brendon had accidentally kicked it in. Patrick had put a poster on his side, but it still left a gap at the bottom. So, Brendon bunkered his body down and spied into the little hole. Patrick was sitting on his bed, his back to the wall, almost like he had purposely placed himself across from the hole.

The thought made Brendon’s heart beat a little faster. He placed his hands on the wall, to get a better view. Patrick’s face was flushed pink, swollen lips opened in an “o” where sweet moans were filtering through to the air. One hand was hidden in his shorts, the other gripping onto the bed sheets beside his body. Brendon felt like he was breaking some unspoken trust, so he hastily got up, put his crate back, and laid on the bed to hold his pillow beside his head and ignore his body.

He was dangling on the thin string of consciousness when someone knocked on his door, “B?” He hummed in response, pushing his pillow off his head. He didn’t open his eyes, shifting around to show he was actually somewhat conscious. “How’d your test go?” Patrick’s voice was soft and questioning, sounding different than normal. It made Brendon open his eyes, glad for the darkness that still was in his room, “It was fine. How was yours?”

Patrick laughed, shrugging, “It was pretty easy. Stupid, a bit. But easy.” Brendon nodded, nuzzling his head back into the blankets. He expected their interaction to be finished, stretching his neck out and away from Patrick. When he heard a little cough, he furrowed his brows and opened his eyes again, “What?” He was being unnecessarily harsh towards the shorter, he knew. But he couldn’t stop it.

“I was wondering if you wanted takeout?” Brendon shrugged, “Not hungry.” Patrick blinked, “It’s almost seven, and there’s no way you ate before you left. I know you.” Brendon shrugged again, “I’m good.” The mention of food had his stomach complaining from hunger, but he had gone this far. He wouldn’t change his mind now. “Are you sure?” Patrick’s voice made Brendon uneasy. “Dude, I’m fucking fine. Shit.” He turned himself fully over on the bed, away from Patrick and towards the wall.

Patrick started to argue, before sighing in defeat, “Alright.” His voice sounded pitiful and made Brendon’s heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t relent, though, waiting until Patrick had closed the door. He then let out a shuddered breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He felt like shit, but it didn’t matter. He sighed and let himself sleep to calm the anxiety in his chest. 

He was awoken again to Patrick shoving him. “What?” He groaned, moving his body slightly to look over his shoulder. “It’s pretty outside. Come on the roof with me?” It was a peace offering, Brendon knew. He was going to say no, but the soft smile on his face melted Brendon’s heart. “Yeah, I’m up.” His voice was gravelly and hoarse, but it was fine. He picked himself up and off of the bed, stretching his body out and glad for the pops and cracks that riddled up and down his back like a song.

“Alright, bone cracker, let’s go.” Patrick was back to being bubbly, and it made Brendon smile. He followed the shorter up to the roof, climbing expertly up and through his window. Patrick sat down, a few steps away from Brendon, instantly dropping his front so that he was laid on his back. Brendon sat beside him, smiling as he inspected the boy from the corner of his eye. He did this for who knows how long before Patrick gasped and patted his arm, pointing up at the sky. There was a shooting star going by. “Make a wish.” Patrick instructed softly.

Brendon obeyed, simply wishing to know what was going on in Patrick’s head. He just wanted to understand the shorter boy that had always been his bright little sunshine of a best friend. The rest of the night passed with simplicity, Patrick constantly hitting Brendon’s arm or leg or whatever he could get to whenever he saw something to note. When they finally sunk back down into their beds as dawn approached on a horizon of gold, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them.


	2. trade mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. Making wishes is a bad choice, don't you know that Brendon?

Brendon stretched out, groaning. He blinked his eyes open, movements drowsy. He was met with a slightly blurry white ceiling without any blood splatters and bright walls housing multiple Star Wars posters, among many others. There was a huge lack of Frank Sinatra. Brendon was not in his own room, but in his shorter best friend’s. He groaned once again, pulling a hand up to run it through his hair.

The strands he encountered were rather thin, which reminded him of Patrick. He sighed, turning his head. No Patrick was to be seen. “Patrick?” Brendon asked, his voice an odd croak and barely louder than the level he normally kept his music at. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Trick?” His voice was much louder this time, though something still sounded off about it. He picked himself up, sitting on his elbows.

The blanket was over his lower body, and he noticed he had on a shirt. Odd. He didn’t normally wear shirts to sleep. Maybe he was so exhausted last night that he just didn’t strip like he usually would. He shrugged and picked himself up. He stretched out, moaning at the feeling. “Patrick!” He shouted again, his voice much louder. “Yeah, B?” The voice that responded to him sounded gravelly, like his own morning voice.

“I’m hungry! Who’s turn is it to make breakfast?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the blur to go away. It didn’t work. “Dunno! I’ll make it. What do you want!?” He debated for a moment. Pancakes sounded really good. “Pancakes!” He shouted back. “On it!” Patrick said the words in a way that made Brendon smile. He looked around with sleepy eyes, ignoring the blur that fiddled with his vision.

The smell of the food eventually pulled him into the other room, eyes closed and moving by memory. He felt his lips spread into a smile that seemed like it would split his face in half. “Trick?” “Mm?” Patrick asked in return. He was prepared to see a sweet, short, blue-eyed boy with a bright smile and a radiance of gold. He was not prepared to see himself. 

He blinked up at caramel eyes that dripped with mischief, a harsh grin and fuzzy brows. Chocolate hair was ruffled up and back on his head. The vision didn’t last. The grin shifted to a look of surprise. Caramel eyes shifted only slightly- more like syrup and dancing with uncertainty. “Patrick?” Brendon asked softly, knowing his eyes- Patrick’s eyes? -were wide. “Brendon?” Patrick blinked at him for a moment, before looking down. 

It felt almost like he was property being surveyed. It made his skin itch and made him want to curl in on himself, for some unknown reason. Almost to throw up. “I don’t.. How did.. What?” His thoughts were going a mile a minute, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure it out. There was no possible, sane reason as to why he would be in Patrick’s body. He had to be dreaming. “That explains why I wanted pancakes?” Brendon asked, shrugging. He was hungry. That much he knew for sure.

Patrick laughed, a full, echoing sound, “Yeah, maybe. Explains why the idea of pancakes makes me wanna smack you. That how you feel when I ask for pancakes?” Brendon smiled, not that he had ever stopped, “Sometimes.” The thought of hurting someone else made his heart hurt a little bit, and he found he had memories of the smacking that happened yesterday. 

However, he remembered burning rage and annoyance. He remembered heart-wrenching worry and pent-up anger. He remembered looking up and smacking someone. Not being smacked. He saw himself, caramel eyes filled with fear and hurt. Saw a tattooed arm bringing a gentle hand up to cradle a reddening cheek. He felt the terror and heartbreak of Brendon- himself -moving away from him with tears welling up in syrup-dark eyes. 

The memory hurt him. “I’m sorry.” He said the words before his mouth could stop him, feeling overwhelming guilt welling up like vomit. When Patrick gave him a confused tilt of the head, he apologized more, “I’m so sorry for hitting you. I didn’t mean to I just.” He wasn’t sure why he would have hit the other. It was like he was dealing with all of Patrick, from his fear of hurting someone to his bubbly persona, but he was still him. 

For some reason, Brendon suddenly stopped fully, “Question.” Patrick was back to fiddling with the breakfast, seemingly unaffected by everything that was happening. He hummed in response. “If we’re. If you’re me.” He didn’t quite know how he wanted to word it, so he finally just decided on one word that could help, “Medicine?” Patrick was currently singing, a soft tune that held him close. Frank Sinatra. Brendon didn’t feel especially attracted to the song, though he was towards the voice singing it.

“Medicine?” Patrick asked, picking his head up with a confused look. Brendon blinked at him, “I take medicine. Wait, what do you feel like? Is it like.. Bubbly and hyper and shit?” Patrick shrugged for a moment before simply nodding, “Kind of.” Brendon sighed, “That’s. You need to take my medicine. Hold on, I’ll get it.” Patrick nodded, still looked partially confused, but went back to breakfast.

Brendon was sure that wouldn’t last long. Memories flashed behind his lids when he blinked. Memories of a brunette bouncing around and barely keeping focus on even one thing. It sent a chill down his spine, and he was quick to walk to the room that had Frank Sinatra all over the walls. The medicine container sat on the bedside table, and he swiftly grabbed it up. He poured the medicine into his hand after thinking for a split second to remember that it was Saturday. 

He would have to refill the container. Maybe he could ask Patrick to. He pattered back to the kitchen, where Patrick was dancing around between the fridge, stove, and countertop. “Here, take this.” Brendon instructed, holding out his hand. Patrick watched him warily, like a skittish fawn. When Patrick refused to come closer, Brendon put the medicine down on the counter and stepped away. Patrick grabbed it and downed it without a drink, making Brendon shudder in slight disgust.

Gradually, Brendon watched as Patrick went from hyperactive to calmed, almost normal. A plate was pushed in front of him, a stack of perfect pancakes that he quickly downed after giving thanks to the other. In what he deemed the Patrick part of his mind, he heard it noting why Brendon was the cook and Patrick was not. The taller always had been better with culinary arts. Patrick was better with baking. Brendon thought it rather odd to be remarking about himself as though he were Patrick.

“Why didn’t you make anything for yourself?” Brendon asked. Patrick shrugged, “Not hungry.” In the Brendon part of his mind, he remembered how his meds tended to make him not quite as hungry as quickly. Instead of accuse the other of being unhealthy, like the Patrick part of him wanted to, he just nodded. He could not keep the slightly disappointed look from his face. 

“Don’t you look at me like that, little boy.” Patrick accused. Brendon rolled his eyes, the bright smile impossible to deter. Was that what it felt like to be Patrick? Bright and bubbly inside at the stupidest and smallest of things? Smiling for virtually no reason? He blinked at the sweet smile on the other’s face, feeling his own smile widen, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. 

Was that how he looked at Patrick? Like he was the only thing in the world? The Brendon part of his brain told him that Patrick was the only thing worth looking at in the world like that. The Patrick part of his brain told him that he was stupid to believe that Brendon looked at only him that way.

He wished he could tell Patrick how he felt about him. Both sides of him forced him to hold his tongue. It seemed that admitting hard things like that was a trait they both had, and he couldn’t tell which part of him had more anxiety swelling high in his chest. “Do you have anything happening today?” Brendon asked, forcing his mind to get away from his previous thoughts. Patrick shrugged, “Not that I know of.” 

The other’s face paled for a moment, “Do you have anything going on?” Brendon shrugged in response, “Not that I know of. Pete’s gone to his parent’s place. Dallon’s at Breezy’s, and he tends to stay there for a few days at a time.” Brendon watched Patrick’s lips curl up, pearly white canines set low escaping from behind pale pink, “Why’d you say it like that?” Brendon raised a brow, “Say it like what?” 

“You said it like you expect it to stay this way for a while. Oh, fuck, we need to find out a way to get this changed!” Patrick was whining softly, terror filled in honey. Brendon laughed softly. Of course they needed to find a way to get this changed. But not yet. He liked know how Patrick felt about a few things. How Patrick reacted to some things. Patrick groaned, dropping his head to the counter. “Hey, don’t break my head in there.” Brendon scolded lightly.

Patrick, in response, picked his head up just to drop it back down again. “Come on, let’s go watch a movie and we can figure this out. Alright?” Brendon’s idea obviously came from the Patrick in him. Brendon himself would never want to waste precious time doing something so mundane. This was proved when Brendon watched Patrick curl his lip again, “We’re wasting time.” Brendon raised a brow, “Wasting time for what?”

Patrick didn’t have an answer. Brendon didn’t have a remark. They ended up laying out on the couch and watching Star Wars, to Patrick’s distaste. The Brendon part of him could relate. The Patrick part of him was geeking out, though. It wasn’t that Brendon himself hated Star Wars, persay. It was just that he had watched it a hundred times and it got boring at times to him. It was worth it, seeing Patrick happy, though. Even if that Patrick was in his head right now.

“Okay, seriously, we should figure out what the fuck is going on.” Patrick said as the end of the third movie passed. Brendon sighed, “Fine, fine. How do you propose we do that?” Patrick shrugged slightly, “Computer? There’s gotta be something online about this. Right?” Brendon shrugged in return, but peeled himself away from the other. It was kind of weird, sometimes his normal brain would take authority and sometimes it was the Patrick side. It had been a bit of both that clung him close to the other during the movies.

He walked off to the room filled with Star Wars- perhaps what he would claim his own for the time being -and grabbed the laptop that was resting on the desk. He pattered his way back, charger in one hand just in case, and plopped back down onto the couch beside Patrick. The password was not something he remembered, so he shoved the computer to Patrick in hopes that he would. Watching as fingers typed as fast as lightning, he noticed he was correct.

It was shoved back to him and he realized he had no idea how to start out. “What are we exactly calling this?” Brendon questioned, looking over and up- God, he’d never get used to that. “Body switching? Duh.” Brendon rolled his eyes but smiled widely, looking back at the computer.

An hour later, they had gone through every article they could find that was even somewhat similar. It was all fiction. Brendon was almost asleep, curled up close to Patrick and looking at the computer that was on his lap. Patrick didn’t stay up as late as Brendon on a normal day, and it seemed those habits had stayed in the shorter’s body. “What about that one?” He pointed half-blindly at the computer. 

Patrick shrugged and clicked on it, stretching his body slightly as he yawned. When he finished, an arm went inconspicuously around the other’s body, not that Brendon minded in the slightest. This was a different side that he’d never even thought of experiencing. The Patrick part of his brain screamed comforted and protected. The Brendon part of him wanted to do that comforting and protecting. 

It was kind of odd, being tucked under a taller arm and it being a serious comfort. The only time anyone taller than him had curled an arm around him was Dallon when they were both half-drunk and having to support each other to walk semi-straight. It felt different, though. This was genuine comfort, a sober decision, a wanted action. He was so stuck in his thoughts- their thoughts? -that he didn’t notice that Patrick had found something.

“So apparently according to all of this shit, we need magic? What the fuck? How exactly did this even happen to start with, I’m so fucking confused.” It sounded weird for Brendon to hear Patrick saying such vulgar words. But it was with Brendon’s voice. So it seemed normal. More normal than usual. He shrugged. He was just tired. Patrick was tired? Patrick’s body was telling him that it was time to sleep, regardless.

Brendon decided to wriggle his way into Patrick’s- his? -side and hummed. Patrick draped a long arm around the smaller body, humming, “Sleeping isn’t going to help.” Brendon shrugged, “I don’t sleep a lot. You do.” Patrick scoffed. It sounded extra weird coming as Brendon’s voice. A small shove was pushed to his shoulder. “Look here, asshat. I let you sleep. Just. Let me sleep. I’ll wake up later and. Help. You do. Whatever.” As he said the words, they were all drowsy.

Patrick relented and let the shorter body burrow into his side, his head dropping to a lanky thigh. Nimble fingers raked through thin hair, helping Brendon fall asleep without much issue. Dreams of being in his own body made him smile. He had the lazy yet over-active mind that was his own, thoughts dancing through his head like choreographed ballerinas. It was normal, something that was easily dealt with, from the slight change in center-of-gravity to his lanky limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wonder what'll happen next.   
> If you have any ideas on what you want to happen, please feel free to comment ;)   
> Also, don't forget to kudos if you like this so far!   
> Love you!


	3. car crash hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Patrick will figure it out?

It was disappointing when he woke up. Short limbs were tangled around a toned, naked torso. A lanky arm was on his shoulder. A bright light greeted him as he opened his eyes. “Good morning. So I had to get up to go get your array of energy drinks. Your medication sucks ass, why do you even bother with it? I found a shit ton of porn-related things. Not a lot of genuine stories on this shit happening. Again, the magic thing keeps coming around. One thing said kissing. I don’t know if I trust it.” 

“Psh, I’d never deny kissing.” he mused, turning his head up to look at the other. He was greeted with a chin that was much too familiar from time spent looking in the mirror. “That’s taking narcissism to a whole new level, Brendon.” His voice came out of the pink, parted lips in response. It was a little trippy to deal with, just in the morning. “I have a great body, what can I say?” Brendon groaned as he stretched his body out, twisting around so that he was on his back in- his own lap? 

“Cannot relate. Almost fell. Your limbs are very lanky. Your ADHD helps me not to have to remember how bad it is.” Brendon laughed, listening as it came out as a more high-pitched, joyful sound, “Well, the exchange is not worth it. Trust me.” “I won’t doubt it. Yesterday morning was partial hell. I was very confused on what the fuck was happening, honestly. Remind me why neither of us look in mirrors?” Brendon hummed and shifted around, “Only if you inform me on how in the hell I didn’t notice that I’m five inches shorter than normal.” Brendon heard his own laugh, tinged with the sweet nostalgia that was Patrick as his only answer. 

There was a span of silence before a whispered admittance made its way out into the air, “I was pretty surprised when I could look all the way over your dresser.” Brendon couldn’t help but laugh, hearing as Patrick’s honey laugh was riddled with a mess of mystery. “We need to find out something that could be helpful. How did this even start is a really good beginner question.” Brendon shrugged, blinking for a moment. Then it hit him.

“The shooting star.” His voice was a mix of awe and distress. Those things never worked, everyone knew that shooting stars only worked in fairytales. Yet, the Patrick part of him made him say it, because Patrick believed in that stuff when Brendon was a complete skeptic on it. “The shooting star! What did you wish for!?” Brendon blinked for a moment before answering, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks, “I just wished I could understand you. What did you wish for?” 

His question was left ignored besides a small gasp. “What?” Brendon asked, yanking himself up. Gravity fucked around with him for a second before he could turn himself around to look at Patrick fully. “So will it go away when you understand me? When we understand each other? That’s how it worked in all the stories I read. Around the porn, of course.” “I swear to God if you jacked off in my body.” Brendon warned. The warning was rather empty of real malice, but still.

“Unlike you and your body, I can control myself.” Patrick said the words full of disgust, a soft pink hue taking over the apples of light cheeks. “Alright, arguments on which of us has more self control when it comes to boners later. What the fuck do we do? We’ve been living together for two years, we do understand each other.” Patrick scoffed, “Apparently not. We need to really understand each other. What goes on in each other’s heads I guess.” 

Brendon whined, “How the fuck do we do that?” Patrick bit into a chapped bottom lip, worry flickering over his eyes. He knew that look. Patrick wasn’t fond of throwing out his ideas until he was sure there was an answer. Otherwise he felt like a fish flopping out of the water. Even with caramel irides and dark brown hair. Even with a bit tanner skin and tired bags under his eyes. He was still Patrick inside that mind, he was Patrick through and through. Patrick looked down from his steely gaze, something that Brendon noticed as a feeling of his own.

He’d get anxious if someone stared solely at him if he wasn’t doing something to warrant that attention. Quickly. He pulled a small, pale hand up and ruffled it in his own coarse hair, watching thick locks as they passed through shorter fingers. It was interesting to see. “I really do have a huge ass forehead.” he said suddenly to break the silence. It worked as intended- it made a sweet laugh leave out of Patrick. Himself. 

“We really need to figure this out.” Patrick whispered after a moment. Brendon nodded, “Yeah. But where do you think we should start?” “Maybe we try the library? Maybe some mythological shit can help? Or we go to some voodoo shop in New Orleans.” The last part was made as a joke, but it was a tempting idea. Brendon blinked, “Um. A trip to New Orleans. Sounds legit fun.” 

Brendon watched his own nose be wrinkled up in slight disgust, “You drink enough for both of us. I’m not sure I could trust you in New Orleans. Any other ideas?” Brendon whined, “I won’t drink! Come on, you know a trip like this would be fun! And possibly helpful! How else to understand each other better than to be thrusted out into a new, strange place?” There was a slight hesitation, “I guess.” Brendon beamed at him, “Exactly. When are we going?”

 

They left almost immediately- save for time for both of them to pack. They packed each other’s bags instead of their own. Patrick didn’t trust Brendon to put actual, good clothes in his bag. Brendon didn’t blame Patrick at all. They traded when they were back out of their rooms. “Oh, yeah. You’ve probably been, like, half-blind the whole time we’ve been like this. Well, when you weren’t sleeping. Here.” Glasses were placed on Brendon’s - Patrick’s - face, adjusted so they weren't crooked. Brendon had to admit, it was a lot clearer.

He could see the sparkle in his own eyes, something that he always saw in Patrick’s. Definitely a piece of Patrick in there. “Come on.” Brendon instructed helpfully, smiling his thanks. Patrick let him lead the way out and down to the car they both shared- and commonly that Brendon used for his own shenanigans. “Are you driving?” Brendon asked as the suitcases were tossed in the back.

“I would prefer if you did.” Patrick said hesitantly, already walking past him to get into the passenger seat. Brendon nodded, accepting that and closing the trunk before going to get in the driver’s seat. Patrick had Brendon’s slender body compacted in the seat. Long legs were criss-cross applesauce, arms on the inside of his knees and phone in front of him. He was slouched over, which made Brendon wrinkle his nose, “You’re going to ruin my fucking posture, dude.” 

“And you’ll fix mine.” He said the words in an annoyed tone, though he straightened up a little bit from his normal slouching. He laughed softly, “I can’t do this in my own body, I don’t have the lank and lean for it. Hell, I need to go on a diet if this is what it feels like.” Brendon laughed, “You can go on my whole fasting for days diet.” He said the words jokingly. Patrick didn’t take them as such, turning into a scolding mother hen again, “You need to eat.” 

“Patrick, I just ate this morning. Pull up directions and let’s go to New Orleans. You can keep an eye on me and stop me from drinking and trying to bang people.” Brendon mused, smiling. “The banging thing will not happen. Not in my body.” Patrick mused in response. Brendon bit back the want to tell him that he loved Patrick’s body, and instead focused on driving and singing whatever song was on the radio as he pulled onto the road.

 

Halfway through, Brendon was questioning his decision to make the drive. He was already practically exhausted, not used to having to deal with shorter legs and.. Well, shorter everything. He had had to adjust the seat and the wheel twice, just to make sure he was actually able to touch everything. It was annoying. “Patrick?” Brendon questioned, reaching over with a wary glance to turn down the radio. He was not in a Metallica mood at the moment, as One rang out into the car.

“Hmm?” Patrick asked. It sounded drowsy. Brendon was a bit weirded out by how much he was learning about his own body. “How much longer?” There was a shifting in the seat beside him, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Patrick stretched long legs out onto the dash, “I’m never fussing at you for stretching your legs out again. I don’t know, we’re like halfway. Just a few more hours.” Brendon smiled faintly, “And I won’t fuss at you for moving the seat.” 

 

Three pit stops (Brendon really shouldn’t have had that slushie, and he warned Patrick not to either--) and a few hours later, Patrick announced their arrival into New Orleans. “Alright, so, during our drive. I’ve been researching. It seems if we’re looking for voodoo shit, the French Quarter is where it all is.” Brendon nodded, “We should probably get, like, a hotel or something.” 

Patrick shrugged, “Walking would probably help me deal with your lanky ass body. Come on then.” Patrick guided him to the hotel- one that was both close enough to the French Quarter and on the cheaper side- at least for Brendon’s taste. Brendon was lucky, being a practical rich kid. Patrick had his own job. Brendon didn’t want the other to have to pay with his hard earned money. Out of the car, checked in, and already out of the rooms (their belongings left in them, keycard kept on Patrick because he was less likely to lose it,) they headed off for the streets. 

Patrick kept telling him where they should go, where to turn, when to cross. He was like a little GPS all by himself. It didn’t take long for them to arrive at their first stop. “Old World Witchery. Go on.” Patrick announced, urging him in the building. Brendon stepped gingerly through the door, looking around. Books were here and there, incense along the walls, amongst other things. “Greetings. I’m Christian Day. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.” A voice rumbled from somewhere on the floor. 

Brendon wasn’t sure where he was, just nodded and looked to Patrick. The other was already walking briskly through the room, to the books, a hand with fine fingers running over the covers. “Trick, what even would we be looking for?” Brendon asked, nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the vibe in here- he felt a bit at ease around it, really -it was more that it was finally sinking in that they were in an odd place with only hope to guide them on assumptions to get whatever had happened fixed.

“We could ask.” Patrick said, shrugging. Brendon nodded, waiting for Patrick to lead the way. Patrick apparently sensed it, because he steadily walked off, leaving Brendon to follow behind him. He got overly nervous and put a hand on the fabric of the familiar shirt Patrick had put on. It had belonged to him before Pete stole it and cut holes into it. Brendon had just stolen it back the day before this mess happened. 

“So, question.” A mediocrely heighted man with eyeliner that could combat Pete’s looked at them. There was a small smile on his face, emphasized by the facial hair he had. His curly mop of hair was let wild on his head, “Yes?” Dark eyes gazed from Patrick in Brendon’s body to Brendon in the shorter’s body. Brendon was sure that it looked like a child right now, the way he was still holding his hand onto the hem of the shirt and half hiding behind his own body.

Patrick turned to look at him, sweet caramel eyes glittering, “We’re calling this bodyswapping, right?” Brendon nodded, annoyed when a lock of fine, dirty blonde hair dropped behind the glasses and into his eyes. He swiped it away, back over the eyebrow it so often called home. Patrick turned back to the man, “Alright so pretty much, we switched bodies. Kind of wanna fix it. Anything you have that can help?” Brendon watched nervously as the man inspected them with a slight stare. It was making his skin itch. He wanted to hide fully in Patrick.

It didn’t help his thoughts that Patrick was being so forward. Maybe his self-confidence had gone up in Brendon’s body. “I may. Just a moment.” Patrick nodded, turning around to lean against the counter, towards Brendon. “You know this is weird as fuck, right? The fact that we managed to switch bodies is already fucking weird enough. Now we’re at a voodoo shop trying to fix it.” Brendon said suddenly. He watched the smile on his own face grow a bit, the tips of pearly canines escaping from under pink lips.

“The fact that you’re actually being shy and nervous is amazing to me. What happened to the bright, outgoing thing you are in this body?” Patrick questioned, grinning a little wider. Brendon ducked his head, adjusting the hat that Patrick insisted he wear before leaving the hotel room. “What happened to the shy little thing you are in this body?” Brendon countered, frowning slightly. Patrick brushed the lock of hair that was trying to drop in front of his eye again, “There’s nothing worth being ashamed of in your body.” 

Brendon scoffed, “I wish that were even half the truth.” Christian Day came back at that time, interrupting them, “Try this tonight. In the moonlight. It’s very important. Tonight is a full moon, it won’t work on a regular night. If it doesn’t work, then I’m afraid I cannot help you.” Brendon took the little vial. It was three quarters full of a diamond blue liquid. “One sip for each of you.” Christian Day informed. Brendon nodded, his eyes focused on the liquid. A cord made of twine was attached around the lip of the vial. He put it on his neck.

Patrick was in charge of paying- he had Brendon’s wallet, despite his fussing. Brendon had insisted and wouldn’t hear otherwise. He didn’t notice that the taller asked for something else that he could possibly try, too enraptured in the liquid that was in the vial. So he didn’t notice when Patrick was given another vial. “Ready, B?” Patrick questioned. Brendon nodded, finally looking up, “Whenever you are, Tricky.” Patrick smiled, a sweet smile that looked almost off on his own face, and patted dirty blonde hair before leading the way out.

An hour later, they were laid out on the bed at their hotel. Brendon was still focused intently on the vial in front of him, Patrick was on the computer. Patrick had Brendon-long legs bent at the knee, ankles intercepting each other in the air. Brendon suddenly had an urge to look over. “Y’know, I have a scar on my leg that I’ve always wanted to see.” Patrick almost jumped off the bed, a hand going up to a clothed chest as he let out a shaky breath. 

“Where?” Patrick questioned softly. Brendon assumed he was trying to get his heart rate under control. “It’s on the back of my thigh. I can’t see it myself. Come on, pants off, I wanna see.” Brendon watched a soft pink taking over his own cheeks, “That’s. Uh. Sure. I guess.” Brendon didn’t wait for him to move, simply picked himself up and waited for a moment, “Unbutton those.” Brendon instructed. “What?” Patrick asked, looking over his shoulder to question it. “Unbutton those, trust me. They’re skinny jeans. I gotta get to the scar.”

Patrick didn’t question it again and instead decided to listen, turning on his side to unbutton the pants. He started to pull them down, away from his - Brendon’s - hips and down, but Brendon beat him to it. He got them as far as off of the hips before Brendon had pale fingers digging at the waistband of the jeans and pulling them down, over the curve of-- well, his own ass, and down to his knees. “Turn over.” Brendon instructed, no nonsense in his tone though his heart was about to be beating out of his chest. Which was weird. It was his own body. 

But the reminder of it being Patrick inside that body made his heart flutter and try to imprint a tattoo against pale skin. Patrick obeyed, turning over and back onto the well-toned stomach. Brendon was crawling onto the back of his calves in a matter of seconds, the pale fingers inspecting the back of fair thighs. Finally, he set eye on the scar. It was an ugly thing, going from the top of his thigh- just under the crease from where his ass set -to about a quarter way down his thigh. He rubbed a hand over it, awestruck.

Patrick tensed under his touch- he could feel it. “That looks so fucking weird. Have you seen it before?” Brendon asked, his voice barely over a whisper. He was obviously still in awe. Patrick shook his head, “I haven’t looked.” By the tone in his voice, Brendon wanted to doubt that, but he didn’t say anything about it. “You should. I’ll let you get a perfect view of it when I’m back in my body.” Brendon mused, leaning down to nip at slightly salty skin before getting back up. It wasn’t meant to be sexual incase Patrick wasn’t into it.

The little moan that escaped made him think that he was into it. He didn’t try to go any farther than a light smack to his own ass- one that was still friendly. Only sexual if it was percieved as such. Then he got off of the other, smiling and going back to his phone. They had nothing but time to kill until they were to try the potion. “If this does work, can we stay for a few more days?” Brendon asked softly, breaking the silence that had filtered in between them and was eating away at his head like a parasite. 

 

“Course, B.” Patrick said the words with such a coolness, such quickness, that it was as if nothing had phased him. Brendon believed that, smiling over at him for a quick moment before dropping his head on the pillow. He was warm. The sheets were still rather cool beneath him, somehow. “Patrick?” Brendon questioned. Patrick hummed a response, not looking up from the laptop in front of him. “What did you wish for?” Brendon asked the words so quietly that he was afraid for a heartbeat it had been lost in the hum of the air conditioner.

“I wished for you.” Patrick said. It sounded mysterious, Brendon didn’t quite get it. Patrick already had him. He was his best friend. He meant everything to the brunette. What more could he possibly want? Brendon didn’t ask anything, simply giving a quick “Oh” as response. Patrick hummed again in return, the clicking of the laptop’s trackpad and the sound of the A/C filling the room and Brendon’s thoughts. He pulled the vial up from his chest, turning onto his side to do it correctly, and looked down at it. It was still that same soft diamond blue, maybe edging a bit more on aquamarine now.

“This is really pretty.” Brendon commented dryly to the air around him. He didn’t expect Patrick to respond, “It is.” Brendon hummed, turning to look at Patrick. “How much was it?” Patrick glanced at him, “A hundred.” Brendon blinked but nodded. He wasn’t surprised, oddly enough. “Trick?” Brendon inquired once again. “Yes. Bren?” Patrick didn’t sound short or annoyed with him. That was good. “What if this doesn’t work?” Patrick stopped, the caramel eyes that normally complimented Brendon widening.

Chapped lips were parted only slightly, a flicker of worry and surprise both hesitating over the features of the taller. In a second, he was frowning slightly, looking over at Brendon. “I dunno. I guess we try again with someone else. Something else.” Patrick shrugged. “I dunno.”

 

As dusk rolled around, Brendon and Patrick settled themselves outside. The humid day was calming, a gentle breeze rustling through the sparse trees. They were sitting in a park, not that Brendon could tell which one it was. At least, it seemed like a park to him. They had walked for a few minutes to get to it and were now stretched out over the grass. It was soft and itched a bit. It wasn’t unbearable. Certainly not bad enough to complain. The vial was still draped around the pale neck, an equally pale hand twisting and turning it nervously, staring up at the sky. “He said at night. Right?”

“Yeah, because it’s a full moon tonight.” Patrick replied softly, making Brendon look down. Brown hair was rested on pale, jean-clad legs, and Brendon couldn’t stop smiling at how peaceful Patrick seemed. He had drunken an energy drink before they had left the hotel. It had calmed the taller’s jitters that Brendon knew wasn’t just ADHD. “So, when do we take it?” Brendon asked, turning his eyes back up to the bright sky. The lights of the city were around them, but it wasn’t bright enough nor close enough to dull the sparkle that overlaid dark blues and blacks.

“I guess at midnight. That’s when most of this shit is done, cause the moon is highest in the sky.” Brendon nodded. He had no idea when Patrick had looked at that- assumed during their time in the hotel -but didn’t question it, either. He simply laid fully so that he could look up at the sky and keep fear-numb fingers twiddling with the vial. They stayed in serene silence until the moon was almost just over their heads. “Now?” Brendon asked, words soft. Patrick nodded, Brendon felt it.

He sat up and, after taking it off his neck. popped the little clip on the vial that had kept its contents inside. He noticed the blue was a bright azure now, glowing faintly. It was pretty fucking trippy. He pulled it up to his lips and took a sip, getting as close to half as he could. It tasted faintly like vanilla-kissed blueberries, with something else just under the surface. He handed it to Patrick, who downed the other half. They laid there for a few moments, blinking. “Did it work?” Brendon broke the silence.

“You egg, if it had worked I’d be back in my body. You wouldn’t be in mine.” Brendon frowned. “But didn’t I wake up in your body? Do you think we need to sleep to find out?” Patrick bit at his lip, “Maybe. Here, let’s go back to the hotel. We can nap. If it works.. Then maybe it’ll be fine.” Brendon nodded and let Patrick get up first. Then Patrick helped him up and they managed to walk back to the hotel without a problem.

As he lay curled up on half the bed, Patrick to his back, part of Brendon couldn't help but pray that it didn't fully work. "Go to bed." Patrick said, his voice soft. It was like he had felt that Brendon hadn't slept yet. A fit arm draped across his hip, dragging him a little closer to Patrick. They still weren't touching. 

Part of him wondered if Patrick wanted to change back, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Orleans boys, huh?  
> Maybe you'll have some luck with this.  
> Maybe not.  
> Wonder what Patrick got from Christian Day?
> 
> (Note, all places that are mentioned are as accurate as I can get them. If I have something messed up, please let me know and I will edit it to fix it.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave kudos if you liked it. Comment if you want!  
> I'd love to hear what you guys think so far!!


	4. there's a light on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hope this worked?

When he woke up, he was not in his own skin. No, he wasn’t in Patrick’s skin either. No. He was wearing fur. How did he notice it? He went to stretch out but that stretching was done differently when he couldn’t pull his hands over his head. Patrick was back in his own skin, though. Some fucking how. Brendon was currently pouting in the corner. Large ears were pressed against his head, a thick tail wrapped around his body. His head was down slightly, his muzzle pointed accusingly at Patrick, who was currently on his computer.

There was something very fucking precious about the sight, honestly. Patrick looked normal. It was beautiful. His bright blue eyes had that beautiful spark back in them, though hidden slightly behind thick-rimmed glasses. A familiar fedora kept a mess of thin, dirty blonde hair hidden. As Brendon inspected him, Patrick looked over, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, B. I have no idea what happened.” Brendon let out a whined complaint, something he hoped portray how annoyed he was about the fact that Patrick had gone back to being Patrick and Brendon was now, as Patrick so helpfully identified, a fucking maned wolf.

“You’re very pretty, though. If that helps.” Brendon let out a growled-bark at him, but his tail waggled beside him like a dog for a second. His ears were more erect on his head, too, pointed towards Patrick. “Will you come sit with me, please?” Patrick asked softly, smiling that same sweet smile. Brendon huffed before nodding. His long, lanky legs- pretty similar to his own -lead him over to the short boy. He dropped his head onto Patrick’s lap, easily reaching it thanks to how long his legs actually were.

Gentle fingers brushed through the thick red fur that made up his mane, Brendon letting his eyes slide shut just so. “You’re very pretty.” Brendon thought it was more than just soothing in the shorter’s voice, but he let it go. “For some reason, I kind of don’t think we should go to that place that we went to before. Do you want to try another place?” Patrick asked the question, though probably knew the answer. 

Brendon pushed his fuzzy head up into Patrick’s hand, blinking his eyes in exchange for a nod. “Then we’ll go to that Marie Laveau’s place. There ought to be something there.” Brendon dropped his head back to Patrick’s knee for a moment before getting up fully. He was tired, though he wasn’t sure why. He jumped up on the bed, long legs stretching out in front and behind him. Black front paws pressed against Patrick’s side, to keep him in reach. He dropped his head to the sheets, huffing. 

Patrick laughed, “Maned wolves are crepuscular and nocturnal.” When he was given a blank gaze of bored brown eyes, he laughed again, “Meaning they’re more active at dawn and dusk, and at night of course. Humans are diurnal. Active during the day. Or if they’re you, they’re catemeral. Active at sporadic times.” Brendon whined softly in the back of his throat at the definitions, his ears flicking back for a slight second before resting comfortably on his head once again. Patrick leaned over to ruffle thick neck-fur again before going back to his work. 

Brendon went back to sleep.

 

An hour later, though it felt like seconds, he was being awoken again. “B, come on. Let’s head to that place.” Brendon huffed, blinking away the sleep that was still in his eyes. He picked himself up simply enough, dropping to the floor with a grunt. “I have a harness I went out and bought, you need to wear it.” Brendon growled, low and far back in his throat at the idea of being confined. “I have no idea how they would react to a stray dog, much less a stray fucking maned wolf, asshat. Come here.” 

Brendon would have argued if this wasn’t Patrick and if he wasn’t right. He, instead, just decided to walk over to him and stood waiting. Patrick ruffled his head, which he put his ears down for, as close to a scowl as he could get in the canid form. The dirty blonde boy picked up one paw, putting the harness on it, then the other. The fabric came up around his body, and Patrick spoke to him during it. “I didn’t know how to exactly judge what size you would be for this so I got you one that some Great Dane owner showed me. God, that was embarrassing. She asked me what kind of dog I had and I had to instantly say Great Dane because that’s the only thing I thought was good enough.”

Finally, it was snapped into place, held close to his body. It felt off, unnatural, restricting. He couldn’t argue much, though. “I have a leash, too.” Brendon dropped his ears down, his lip curling back in a snarl. “Brendon, I know. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” Brendon was very hesitant but then the leash was clipped onto him and he couldn’t argue anymore. A comforting hand was placed onto his back, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t fully working, but Patrick’s presence was very comforting.

“So, we need to go down to the place. Please don’t run off.” Brendon looked up at him, as close as he could get to a glare. A look that he could only wish told Patrick how stupid that was when the leash was on him. Patrick laughed, leaning down a bit to press gentle lips to the top of his pointed snout, “I know. Sorry. Come on.” 

 

The walk to the place lead to a lot of stares. A few people were intrigued. Many were terrified. Brendon simply stayed up beside Patrick, his dark red snout pushed against the short boy’s pale skin. A gentle hand was kept on his head, just between his ears. On the wrist of that hand was the leash he was confined to. “Can I pet him!?” An excited little girl that couldn’t be any older than 10 ran up to him.

Her mother looked terrified behind her, rushing to grab her hand, “Bandit! What did I tell you about that!?” Brendon whined softly, ears drooping slightly. Patrick ruffled Brendon’s mane, “Don’t worry about it, miss! He’s friendly, she can definitely pet him! I promise he won’t bite! Will you, Brendon?” Brendon snuffled softly, looking up at the bright blue eyes looking down at him. 

He looked back down to see the little girl begging her mom. Finally, her mother relented. Brendon crept from beside Patrick and sniffed the girl’s hand as she held it out. He wasn’t sure if that was what she knew to do or what her mother had instructed her to do. He pushed his large head against her hand, snuffling softly again. The little girl giggled and ran her hands through his thick fur. He let it happen, a broad tongue swiping up the side of her face in returned affection.

“Alright, B. We’ve got somewhere to get, come on, buddy.” Patrick tugged the leash lightly, a hand coming up to rest on his flank. “Do you mind if we get a picture with him, really quickly? Her dad’s not going to believe this.” Brendon wasn’t really focusing on the talking, more focused on the excited little girl rubbing him behind his ears. It was making his back leg thump against the cement, tongue licking out into the air at the feeling.

Finally, his flank was pushed into a sitting position. The little girl- Bandit -wrapped short arms around his neck, her face pressed against his. He had his mouth open, half-panting and half trying to smile. The woman got the photo, once, twice, then a third. “Thank you so much. We’ll let you get on your way. Come on, Bandy, we gotta go see daddy!” She whined softly, but Brendon licked her cheek, nuzzling against her in a gentle snuggle. 

It took a moment, but her mother got her away from Brendon. He softly howled his goodbye to her, sounding like a soft “awoo” that was partially saddening. She waved back at him, “I love you, doggy!” He wagged his tail behind him, then looked up at Patrick when she was gone. “Alright, buddy. That was fucking precious. You’d make a great dad-wolf. Come on.” 

He rose to his long legs, stopping to stretch out his body from how he had been sitting. He stepped into a slight prance behind Patrick, head high and ears erect on his head. His tail was gently in the breeze behind his body, his mouth open and tongue out in both a smile and a pant. “Come on, bud. Over here.” When they got to the place, Patrick was told that the dog couldn’t come in. “Can you stay here and not get in trouble in the quick time it takes me to go get someone to help?” 

Brendon nodded, sitting next to the door. His tail was wagging behind him, a whine leaving him as Patrick vanished. He felt suddenly nervous. He was alone, anyone could get him. He couldn’t defend himself. Then he remembered the sharp claws on his black paws, the large teeth in his mouth. He would be perfectly fine. And he was until Patrick got back, a woman following behind him. She looked weird, though Brendon had no right to judge. He was a fucking maned wolf right now.

“Is this him?” She questioned, inspecting him. “This is Brendon, yeah.” The lady nodded, “Come with me.” Patrick took hold of the leash on Brendon, walking beside him and behind the lady. She said nothing, but she carried herself with an air of authority. No one asked a question as she walked past. Brendon tried to keep himself directly against Patrick’s side. She led them through and out until they escaped into a little garden-like place out back. “Come. Quickly.” 

A hidden place was where they were lead, away from the direct outside. It was covered in vines and flowers in the hundreds. The only entryway was through a vine-covering that the woman held open for the two. “Sit.” she instructed, pointing to the ground. Brendon was quick to listen, Patrick sat beside him, an arm slithered around his back and holding him closely. “Your.. What did you say you were to him? Boyfriend?” 

Brendon glanced over at Patrick, who was red as a tomato. “We’re roommates.” The woman laughed, “Why not boyfriends?” Patrick’s face was somehow redder, and Brendon was sure he’d be a matching shade if he were human. He turned his gaze back to the woman, who was sitting with her legs crossed in front of them. “My name is Mia. What it seems has occurred is that you’ve been simply hexed. I have something I need to give you. This will help reverse the animal-effects within two days, so you can quit barking around. Remove his harness, please.” 

Patrick did as he was told, and Brendon couldn’t stop the little shake that went through him at the lack of the confining fabric. “Good. To keep the hex away, I have two things I will need you to do. We’ll talk about that after the first part is done.” Brendon watched her intently as she stood and rushed off. He looked over at Patrick, who was still rather red, though not as brightly red. He shifted around until his head was dropped onto Patrick’s thigh, letting out a whine when a pale hand ruffled his mane. 

Mia came back almost as quickly as she left, dropping a few things onto the ground. He noticed a mortar and pestle, and a few various flowers and herbs. She didn’t say what it all was. “You’ll have to eat this. It won’t taste delicious, exactly, but it won’t be horrible either. You need to eat it in the mornings and at night. Dawn and dusk until you change back. When you change back, you don’t need it anymore.” She settled herself back down, dropping the things into the mortar and quickly working it all into a pounded out paste. 

Brendon simply kept his head on Patrick’s lap, blinking lazily as the short boy continued to run gentle fingers through his thick mane. “Y’know, I kind of like him like this. Any possible way I could manage to turn him back sometime?” Patrick piped up after half a moment of silence. Mia stopped what she was doing, blinking up at the other, “I suppose, yes. But I would say to not do it this way. If you’d like him to be a maned wolf again? I have a thing. He’ll have to wear it, and when he wants to shift back, he’ll just have to take it off. It’ll only work on him, though. So I’d have to put some of his blood in it. Plus a lock of the fur.” 

Patrick nodded, “That’s fine.” Brendon whined softly, scooting a little away from Mia and farther onto Patrick. Patrick laughed, “Do you mind, B?” He picked his head up and blinked at the shorter. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, exactly. But it was still a little weird. He let out a soft noise from the back of his throat, that he hoped portray he wasn’t against it, before dropping his head back down onto the short boy’s soft lap. 

They were sitting there for a moment, before Mia left again without a word with the mortar and pestle. Brendon was just edging on sleep when she came back. “Eat this.” She instructed it coolly, and the smell of raw meat hit his senses, knocking the instincts of his creature into overdrive. He hadn’t eaten. He was starving. He opened his eyes to see her holding a piece of what looked to be beef. It was a thick strip- probably part of the loin. Needless to say, he gobbled it up as quick as he possibly could, growls rumbling from deep in his chest when Patrick tried to move it. 

“You ass, you don’t have fucking thumbs. It’s. You moron! Growl at me again, and I’ll bop your nose. I’m not going to take it.” Patrick scolded him, reaching for the meat. The growl was quieter now. His human instinct knew that Patrick wasn’t going to steal his food. The animalistic side just had the constant reminder that he needed to survive. It read Patrick’s attempt to help as a threat. Finally, somehow, Patrick got the piece of meat without Brendon biting his hand, though a lot of snarling was involved. Patrick took it and moved it over, so that Brendon could get a better grip on it with large claws and a dark paw.

When it was gone he lifted his head, tongue swiping out to get the last taste of the meat from his jowls. He looked at Mia, expecting more, ears flicking back when she laughed, “That’s all. Here, I got a few things. Give him one of these at dawn and dusk.” A bag that Brendon hadn’t noticed, too focused on dealing with other stuff, was passed to Patrick. He decided that cleaning the bit of blood from his paws was more worth his time, broad tongue strokes raking over each until he deemed them spotless. 

Only then did he stand and sniff at the bag that was now in Patrick’s lap. Brendon heard Mia and Patrick talking, knew they were probably talking about him, but he was enraptured with why he had been fed. He assumed that it had something to do with the paste, though he couldn’t be fully accurate. He snuffled, his nose pressed against the bag, as though he could somehow manage to smell it better. It was not working.

“Brendon, get your fucking nose away from it, you ass.” A small tug to the scruff hidden in his thick mane was what made him pull his head away, looking up at Patrick, ears down, and letting out the most pitiful whine he could muster. “You can have more of it later, B.” Patrick scolded the other gently, so Brendon decided to grunt and pushed his body against him. Patrick wrapped an arm around him, patting his side, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make you cookies when you’re a human again to make up for it.” Brendon did not argue with that.

The rest of it faded on, Brendon in more of a daze than anything else. He was comfortable against Patrick, where the boy was steadily ruffling his fur. “That’s all I can do for you. Oh! You wanted the shifting thing? Give me a moment.” Mia vanished once again. Patrick beckoned him into laying down, pressing his body up against Patrick’s side. When she returned, she had a little vial and a needle. “I’m gonna get the fur from your mane, alright? And the blood from your leg. You gotta stay still for me.” 

Brendon was wary but moved a bit so that she could get to it easier. The tug and pull of the little lock from his mane, accompanied by a bit of cutting of the fur, was simple. The needle was in his arm before he expected it. Patrick shushed him, petting his head and talking softly to him. Patrick knew that he wasn’t a fan at all of needles. “It’s fine, B. You’re doin’ good, buddy.” Brendon let out a soft whine, but then Mia was announcing that it was done and the needle was out, so it was all okay.

“Come back tomorrow and I will have it finished. As soon as absolutely possible. Patrick, don’t forget what to give him.” Patrick nodded, Brendon saw it from the corner of his eye. Brendon picked himself up from the ground, shaking out his pelt and stretching. His front paws almost intercepted, right up against each other. He stretched until he heard a satisfying crack, his body telling him it was far enough. Then he stretched the other way, prancing a bit after to completely loosen his muscles. 

Brendon was forced to have the harness come back on him. He was fine with it for now. It meant he was going back to lay and be with Patrick. The walk back to the hotel was more peaceful than the walk from the hotel had been, not as many people trying to look at him or pet him. Amazingly, the hotel never asked anything about Brendon. He wasn’t sure if that was because Patrick had said something to them or they just allowed dogs. Though, he was a maned wolf. Not a dog.

“You need a bath.” Patrick decided as they got into the room. Brendon made an annoyed whine erupt from his throat, looking over at the boy. He had been about to jump up on the bed, his long legs stopped mid-stride when Patrick spoke. “Don’t you use that tone with me, sir. You do need a bath. Come on, you can take one and I’ll put on some shorts to bathe you.” Brendon whined once again, the noise quieter than the first. The idea of seeing Patrick shirtless without him being nervous was an idea he could get behind. If that meant being bathed like a dog, then so be it.

Ten minutes later, Brendon was pulling off his best annoyed-wolf face. His ears were back just slightly, just to sell it off. Patrick was whistling as the water ran but stopped when it did, “Put a paw in and let me know if that’s good enough.” Brendon stood on the side of the tub, the wrist of one forelimb holding him up like a hook while he used his other and put it into the water. It was a nice warmth, although a little colder than he would normally allow. “It’s hot and humid outside, it’ll feel better to take a colder bath.” Patrick explained when Brendon whined softly, pulling his paw back and doing the best he could to shake.

Of course it was done on purpose. Patrick had been running baths for him at random moments since a month into their friendship. It had been raining outside and Brendon had somehow managed to get a cold. Patrick had tried desperately to make sure the water was the right temperature- which meant him asking Brendon ten times before finally leaving him to sink in it. He had even been sweet enough to put a dark bath bomb in the water that time, though he later admitted that was partially so that he could walk in without being as flustered to make sure Brendon was okay.

“Get in.” Patrick commanded, his tone soft and sweet. It was the tone he used when he knew Brendon wouldn’t like something but needed to do it anyways. It was how he got him to take medicine during sickness. Brendon forced himself to get into the water, leaping into the tub with the grace of a deer. “You can sit if you want, B.” Patrick informed. Brendon did so, leaning down and sniffing at the water. His tongue darted out to lap at it, just now realizing how thirsty he was. He hadn’t had anything to drink all day. “I’ll get you some water after this, don’t drink your bath water, it’s nasty.” Patrick scolded, patting his back gently.

He picked his head up, near sheepish at being caught in the act of it. Soon enough, he was leaning into Patrick’s very touch as he scrubbed down to the skin, hands skillfully getting into thicker fur. He even rubbed his belly to clean it before getting each individual paw. “I need to make sure you smell good, because you won’t when you’re a human if you don’t bathe now. God, your fur is almost as coarse as your hair.” Brendon let it happen, happy being taken care of for the time being. It was like being spoiled, and he loved it. 

Then he was instructed to get out, having been rinsed of every bit of suds. So he did, leaping out (a little less gracefully due to slippery footing) right into where Patrick was holding the towel for him. Patrick took good care into making sure every drop of water he could get was out, so that Brendon was only damp. “Lay on the floor, I’ll get you some water. Don’t get on that bed until you’re dry.” Brendon did as asked, laid out over the carpet on the floor and licking at his front paws. He couldn’t help but find it odd that he was so willing to lick what were practically his hands.

When Patrick dropped a bowl filled with water at his paws, however, he refused to question it much. He, instead, leaned over and lapped at the chilled water until he felt it seeping into his bones, much less dehydrated than he was before. Patrick refilled the bowl and set it beside the TV stand in case he wanted to drink more. Brendon was appreciative for it. He was even more appreciative when Patrick, instead of laying on the bed, went and laid on the floor on his stomach next to him. “Whatcha wanna watch, big dog?” Patrick asked, ruffling a hand through damp fur.

Brendon let out a soft bark, watching as Patrick cut on the television and flipped through channels. When he went to pass Animal Planet, Brendon put a paw on his hand to stop him. Watching the various shows were a guilty pleasure of his. He was happy. And when he was dry, he was allowed up on the bed, Patrick following behind him again. And when it was dusk, he was allowed to eat another of the steaks, and part of Patrick’s pizza that he had ordered before.

Maybe his favourite part of the day was when Patrick laid down, coaxing him up and over, and Brendon laid right beside him on the bed. His head dropped to the soft pillow while Patrick’s arm went around him like a teddy bear. He spent more time watching the other than actually sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, Bren as a dog. Maned wolf.  
> Canid.  
> Cuddly asshole.
> 
> Sidenote, maned wolves are one of my favourite creatures and I want desperately to work with them as a vet.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this!  
> Love you guys!


	5. honey is for bees, silly bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Honey is for bees, silly bear  
>  Besides, there's jelly beans everywhere  
> It's not what it seems in the land of dreams  
> Don't worry your head, just go to sleep. _

“B, you asleep?” Patrick’s voice was soft and pulled Brendon from dreamland. He was upset when he found himself still covered in fur, but it softened when he remembered about it only being another day or so before he could be human again. He blinked brown eyes open and looked over to see that Patrick had drowsy, ocean-blue eyes focused on him. Well, he thought they looked like the ocean. He’d only ever seen it in pictures and movies. He didn’t have a lot to compare.

To answer his question, he leaned and licked a stripe up Patrick’s cheek, taking in the salt taste without argument. Patrick scrunched up his nose, wiping his face with the sleeve of his cardigan, “Asshole. Come here. I had a nightmare.” Brendon whined softly, a sound that he hoped showed his worry, and scooted on the bed until his body was against Patrick’s again. He rested his head between them, letting a broad tongue lick soft, concerned stripes against Patrick’s nose. He tasted the tears before he saw them. It was a steady attempt to show his support, even as salty tears and dry sobs racked through Patrick’s body. 

He actually managed to move even closer, Patrick turning on his back and Brendon crawling over onto him until he had the front half of his body over the shorter and was steadily licking at his cheeks and chin. Patrick slowly, gradually, calmed to a whimper, his voice hoarse and low as he talked- “I’m sorry.” Brendon didn’t want to hear the mess of him being sorry and instead moved to lick his cheek again. Patrick didn’t tell him to move, simply put an arm around him and thanked him softly. It was sweet. 

 

The next time he was awoken, it was to shifting beneath him. He growled softly, letting his head nuzzle farther into the fabric he could feel against his fur. “Brendon, I have to get up.” Patrick groaned beneath him. Brendon didn’t relent, his long legs easily reaching to keep Patrick where he was. Patrick groaned once again, “You ass, I have to piss. And feed you breakfast.” The sound of food made his ears perk on his head, eyes opening and head raising. He also moved off of the other, yawning widely. 

“Your teeth terrify me.” Patrick commented dryly before scurrying off to the bathroom. Brendon stretched his body out before jumping off the bed, shaking his pelt out. Patrick returned when he was cleaning the fur, his body twisted around to lick at his knee. “Breakfast, B.” Brendon waited a moment before actually getting up, his lean body stretching before he pranced over to Patrick. He sat on the uncomfortable carpet, looking up at Patrick, waiting. The other was shuffling around, pulling the bag of meat from the mini-fridge.

He whined, Patrick smiling at him, “I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Impatient little dork.” Brendon whined in a more snap-back attitude, smacking a paw to the ground. Patrick simply laughed before turning back with the meat in one hand, “Here. Shit.” He tossed it to him and Brendon skillfully grabbed it. He had no idea how exactly he had managed to do it, but sometimes shit just happens. He rose to his paws and laid at the end of the bed, using his back teeth to tear through the eat to get small enough pieces. 

He growled when Patrick walked past him, though didn’t stop trying to eat. “I have pizza, I don’t need your mess.” Patrick shot back quickly, and Brendon heard him sit down on the bed. Only when he was done with the meat did he jump up on the bed, whining at Patrick’s feet and waiting to be fed pizza. “You literally just had something.” Patrick said. Brendon’s whining was drowned out with the sound of the television.

Finally he dropped his head down to the blankets, over his outstretched limbs and bumping against Patrick’s leg. 

He wanted to sleep anyways. 

 

Someone shook him awake. His ears swiveled like satellites on his head before he finally realized that it was really just Patrick. Then, sleepy brown eyes blinked open. “It’s dusk. Time for your other medicine. Also, I just realized you have not pissed the literal whole time we’ve been dealing with this?” The last sentence came out as a question, accompanied by a raised brow. Patrick wasn’t wearing his glasses. The lack of a hat and the familiarity of a worn, oversized hoodie made him put together that Patrick was going to go to sleep.

Brendon picked himself up fully, stretching out his body. He dropped to the ground happily, shaking out his pelt. He sat and waited patiently where he had just this morning, turning his head around to watch Patrick as he walked through sluggishly to the mini fridge. He held up the meat, Brendon grabbing it with his sharp canines and just barely missing Patrick’s fingers. He felt slight guilt for that, but dropped and gnawed at it with a contentedness that seeped bone-deep.

“B, want me to let you out? I can stay up until you get back.” Patrick asked when Brendon was done. The wolf rose to his long limbs and stalked over to the water bowl, lapping at the liquid for a solid minute or two. Only when he was satisfied did he pick his head up, walking over and waiting patiently beside the door, where it wouldn’t hit him when opened. “Do you want me to go with you?” Patrick asked.

Brendon simply scratched at the door again. He wanted the comfort of the other with him, of course, but he knew he could take care of himself. Patrick finally let him out, an affectionate ruffle between his ears accompanying him before he slipped out of the room. He managed to sneak out of the hotel without any trouble whatsoever. It seemed being in New Orleans had its perks. Speaking of which. 

He made his way quickly to the park they had gone to just two days before. He went, did his business on a tree he deemed suitable, overlapping the scent of a few stray dogs that had gone rather stale. He lifted his pointed snout to the sky, scenting out where he wanted to go. He smelled something that seemed like food. He decided to go after it. His long limbs lead him straight to the scent he was after. He noticed it was Bourbon Street. Had he really gone so far?

He stayed close to the shadows, ears and nose working a mile a minute to make sure that he was okay and nothing snuck up on him. Despite this, he somehow managed to almost bump into someone that was fairly buzzed at the least. And had food. Brendon wanted to somehow work that to his advantage. The girl was laughing, the food she was holding almost falling to the ground. 

Brendon waited until she started to walk away, presumably to go somewhere else to get drinks or something, before escaping from the shadows and rubbing his snout against her naked calf. She almost jumped out of her skin, “Puppy?” He kept rubbing his head against her leg, refusing to look fully up- it would have been rude to look up her skirt, his mother had raised him better than that.

He tuned out the woman’s babbling until he heard mention of food again. He picked his head up, pulled away from the woman to look up at her face. She was pretty- long red hair cascading like waves down her body, eyes the colour of bright emeralds, brightened by the artificial glow of alcohol coursing through her system. While her skin wasn’t pale like Patrick, she was rather fair skinned, like Dallon or himself. A field of freckles covered her face and up and down her arms. Yes, she was pretty.

She offered him food once again, and Brendon licked her sweat-salted leg in response, whining softly. “Alright, little puppy.” She was making rather coherent sentences for her state, but she dropped her little plate of food nonetheless to the ground in front of the wolf. He whined appreciatively, trying to thank her, before going to eat it. She left him with a ruffle to his neck fur and a coo of “Bye, puppy.” After he was done with the food, he decided to follow his scent trail back to the hotel. Patrick might be worrying.

He was not wrong. “B! Fuck, I thought someone had got you! You’ve been gone for two hours!” He was immediately wrapped in a hug, arms around his neck and holding him forcefully against him. He whined out his apology, licking Patrick’s ear. “Stop licking my ear, dude.” Patrick sounded calm once again, though there was a slight jitter in his tone. Brendon settled to pressing his nose against the boy’s neck. “Fuck, that’s cold, dude!” Patrick yelped out, moving back a little bit.

Brendon would have smiled if he could, pushing his head against Patrick. The blonde simply pet him for a second and moved to the bed, laying out over it with a calmer sense. Brendon stepped over and jumped up onto it beside Patrick, laid against him and letting the boy’s arm be thrown over him. He simply laid and, like a good guard dog, watched over his best friend to make sure he could protect him no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B is like the perfect little guard dog for Trick.  
> It's pretty cute.  
> What do you guys think?  
> Love you!


	6. best friends, ex friends til the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder if B will still be a wolf.  
> Patrick's being a cute bean stg.

When he blinked awake, he wasn’t a wolf anymore. He stretched his body out, groaning softly. An arm was thrown over his waist and damp breath was against his naked back. He was confused for a moment before memories of last replayed in his head. At some point in the night he had fallen asleep, sometime after he knew Patrick was okay and safe. He escaped from Patrick’s grip to go to the bathroom, much happier afterwards when he didn’t feel like he’d piss on himself and his teeth didn’t have a nasty film over them that he wasn’t sure where it came from.

He crept around to the bed and settled back down, sitting with his long legs crossed in front of Patrick. He waited a moment before talking, his hand going out to pet wispy hair, “Good morning.” His voice was croaky from not actually talking for two days. It took a good moment of Brendon petting Patrick for the shorter to finally stir. Brendon let his mind wander in that time- not that he could stop it. For some reason, as the wolf, he hadn’t been affected so badly by his ADHD. Now it was back in full force.

“B?” Patrick’s morning voice was almost as hoarse as Brendon’s. “‘m here.” Sea-greens blinked open to look at him, then widened when they finally realized, “B, you’re you!” Brendon can safely say he has never seen Patrick get up as fast as he did, nor has he ever had arms around his neck as fast. With his nose tucked against Brendon’s neck, he seemed to be literally smelling him, but the taller didn’t really mention it. 

“I missed you.” Brendon laughed, his arms coiling around his best friend’s torso, “I’ve been me the whole time.” Patrick shook his head, “No. You were me and then you were a wolf. You weren’t the long-legged creep of my best friend.” Brendon gasped, pulling away sharply from him, “More like long-legged sex god.” The claim was said with a bite of offense, though it wasn’t terrible. It was barely more than actual teasing. 

“Keep telling yourself that, that’s why you haven’t had anyone at the apartment in months.” Brendon let out a second sharp gasp, “You ass! I don’t see you bringing anyone to the apartment!” Patrick raised a brow at him, “I’m not the one claiming to be a sex god.” Brendon wanted to complain but Patrick had a habit of being right. He frowned instead, settling on sticking out his tongue at the shorter.

“What time is it?” Patrick asked as his body dropped back to the bed. Brendon shrugged. The sun was just rising outside. “It’s dawn.” Patrick groaned, “It’s still too early, come lay back down.” Brendon sighed, stretching, “But come on, don’t you wanna be awake?” Patrick shot him a glare and held up the covers, waiting for him to get under them. He didn’t waste time, scurrying under it and settling with his head on the pillow, angled above the shorter as Patrick moved to hugging up to him just slightly.

 

Patrick woke up first the next time, waking Brendon up by a bop to his nose, “Get the fuck up.” Brendon pulled a hand up to his nose, tucking it against the pillow that smelled faintly of Patrick in response. “B, get up. We’ve got to do your thing so your hex goes away. Come on, up. I ran you a bath.” The idea of the bath made him peek his eyes open. Patrick was looking at him with soft eyes that looked like the pictures he had seen of the Galway Bay in pictures. 

“Good morning, sleepy head. Go soak. Your muscles can’t be happy after that change.” Now that Patrick mentioned it, his muscles did feel like shit, stretched past what they were supposed to be and cramped from how he had woken up. He slipped up off the bed, sighing. When he shuffled to the door, Patrick stopped him again, “I got you this, too.” Brendon looked at him, watching as Patrick strode over and pushed an energy drink into his hand. 

Brendon smiled, “Thanks, Trick.” Patrick nodded, “Oh, Mia said you need to soak for a good 40 minutes or so.” Brendon was confused for a second before it clicked who Mia was, “Okay, Trick. Thanks.” He slipped out of the room and into the bathroom. He stripped out of his boxers, the only thing he had had on when he had shifted to begin with- he was glad they hadn’t been affected. Then he looked into the bath.

The room was scented sharply with a sweet smell of rose. The bath water had dozens of white rose petals. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d almost think Patrick was trying to seduce him. He shrugged it off and slipped into the large tub, glad for the warmth of the water. He tipped his head back against the side of the tub, listening to the sounds of Patrick singing softly and pattering around. It was sweet, calm. Normal. Somewhat.

What felt like a century later, Patrick’s voice arrived outside of the bathroom door, “B, it’s time to get out.” Brendon groaned, moving around and opening his eyes. His neck was a little stiff, hated him for sitting like he had for so long. He finally stood up (after leaning over and pulling the drain,) listening as the water fell from his body and drained from the tub. His eyes landed on a towel that was draped over the rack just above the side of the tub. He snatched it up and started drying himself off, humming. 

When he was fully dry, he wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the tub. His steps were light as he went to the main part of the hotel room, where Patrick was sitting waiting on the side of the bed. “Come here.” Patrick instructed, using a finger to beckon him forward. Brendon did as he was told- no reason not to -and stood in front of Patrick. The shorter stood and instructed him to open his mouth and lift his tongue. Brendon was confused but complied, his tongue held up against his teeth in his opened mouth.

He watched Patrick drop liquid under his tongue, but didn’t dare move until he was told he could. “There. I’ll need to put four more under there before we sleep tonight.” Brendon was bewildered but nodded nonetheless. “Is there anything you wanna do today?” Brendon asked, swallowing out of habit. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, but it felt weird having the liquid under his tongue with the saliva. Not that it tasted bad, it was just a little weird. “Whatever you wanna do, dude. You asked to stay longer.” Brendon nodded once again, watching as Patrick vanished into the bathroom.

He decided to put on some clothes- no sense in walking around in just the towel. Nothing fancy, just a tee and some of his skinny jeans. He laid out on the bed, naked feet hanging off the edge of the bed and looking at his phone as he waited for Patrick. Forever later, Patrick sighed, “Alright, where are we off to, B?” Brendon shrugged, “Wherever you wanna go, dude.” “Mardi Gras is today.” Brendon commented lazily. “Wanna go to Bourbon Street?” Brendon nodded, turning around to look at Patrick. He was wearing a small smile, one that came with expectancy and far entertainment. His eyes were sea-blue and bright, holding a little sparkle in them. “Put your shoes on.” Patrick was pulling on combat boots, and Brendon dropped to his knees at his suitcase to pull his Converses out.

They were slipped onto his feet as quickly as possible, then he was bouncing at the door, ready, energetic. Patrick raised a brow at him, “Did you actually drink the red bull or did you just pour it into the bath?” Brendon scoffed, “I drank it. Oh! I didn’t take my medicine!” He scurried over to his bag and pulled out the container, “Today’s what day?” “Thursday.” Patrick piped up, humming softly. He nodded and opened the tab, dropping the meds in his hand. He looked at Patrick expectantly, blinking.

The shorter finally seemed to get it and went to get him a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Brendon smiled appreciatively when he returned, washing away the pill with the water as quick as he could- before it would dissolve on his tongue. “Thanks, Trick.” He picked himself up from where he was crouched, dropping the container into the suitcase again. Patrick somehow managed to lead the way out of the hotel room, Brendon following behind him. “Can we go back home tomorrow?” Patrick asked, soft as snow. 

“If that’s what you wanna do, Patrick.” The shorter seemed glad for it, as if he was afraid to stay in the place much longer. They slipped away from the hotel, out into the streets. Mardi Gras was already in full swing, people all around. It was slightly unnerving. Patrick held on tight to Brendon’s arm, like he was afraid that he would get lost. It was there for a while before Brendon moved it to where their hands were together, fingers interlocking.

Patrick looked up, questioning. “It’s safer.” Brendon said, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fluttering in his chest. He did not like the feeling of Patrick’s hand in his. He did not want to do this all the time. He did not wish he could kiss Patrick. But.. Patrick was looking up at him.. He did have pretty lips.. And they looked soft.. He stopped himself, shaking his head. He was not having feelings about his best friend.

He instead blinked towards Patrick and let the shorter lead the way around people. At some point, beads were thrown around his neck. A beer was pushed into his hand. It was amazing. It was like a huge party. A huge, street-sized party. They stayed until it was edging on darkness, until Brendon was tipsy and Patrick was giggling. Somewhere, a blunt was pushed between his fingers. He gladly took it, still trailing behind Patrick, just barely able to return it to the owner with a smile as thanks. 

Patrick was sober enough to lead them back to the hotel, and they stumbled in their room. Brendon was giggling, his arm somehow moved from being between them to around Patrick’s waist. Patrick let out his own laugh, pulling Brendon by his shirt behind him to get to the bed. They crashed onto it unceremoniously, Brendon over Patrick and giggling steadily, a bright smile on his lips. Patrick was smiling softly, watching Brendon with eyes bordering on ultramarine. There was an artificial glow to them, probably from whatever substances he had been given. The shorter looked borderline nervous. Brendon couldn’t have that.

He leaned down and captured Patrick’s lips with his own, hesitant and only smiling again when the shorter quit being tense and returned the gesture. A warm hand leaves from his shirt to up at the back of Brendon’s neck, just teasing with the hair at the nape and pulling him closer. Brendon groaned, nipping at his bottom lip. He let his own hand move from Patrick’s waist to his face, holding him close with his thumb stroking the shorter’s jaw. 

They broke apart due to a mutual need for air, hot breath filling up the space between them as Brendon leaned his forehead against the other. Patrick was calmer, smiling, “That was..” He didn’t get to finish, Brendon smiling, “Yeah. Do you wanna..?” “Yeah.” Patrick pulled his head back down, their lips meeting again. It was more skilled, prepared this time. Teeth and tongue matched, rarely clanking together. Brendon’s mouth left from Patrick’s just to start nipping down to his jaw. Patrick let out a small whine, breathing heavy in Brendon’s ear.

At his neck, he adjusted so his lips were sucking into the crook of his neck. Patrick’s hand pushed him impossibly closer, his back arching up so that they were touching as much as possible. An impatient hand tugged at his shirt, the other loosening from his neck, “Take that off.” Patrick whispered. Brendon was only too willing to comply, sitting up and stripping his shirt off. The beads went with it for a moment before settling back around his neck. He had, admittedly, forgotten they were even on.

Patrick took them in his hand to yank Brendon back down, Brendon almost yelping at the feeling but it quickly phasing into a strangled groan as their lips crashed together. Hands rushed over his body quicker than he could fathom, so Brendon put one hand underneath Patrick’s shirt, riding it up on his stomach and squeezing at his waist. “B.” Patrick whined out, just barely breaking their lips to talk. “Yeah?” Brendon questioned, breathing heavy and keeping their lips just brushing as half-lidded eyes looked down at the shorter.

“I’m tired.” Brendon laughed. Honestly, he was too. He wanted to go to sleep. Patrick moved around and shifted under Brendon, nuzzling against the pillow. Brendon laughed again, “I am too.” He laid down and moved around, cuddling up to the shorter and the pillow. He was almost asleep before Patrick shouted, “The oil!” Brendon almost, admittedly, fell off the bed. He blinked open and looked at Patrick, “What?” “The rose oil, I gotta put it under your tongue again.” Brendon nodded simply, sitting up enough to open his mouth and lifting his tongue.

He waited, Patrick struggling over and finally getting the little bottle. The oil was dropped under his tongue, then Patrick kissed his cheek and he closed his mouth with a slight grimace. When Patrick was finally curled up in the bed beside him again, Brendon cuddled into him. It was simple. He knew the feelings would be ignored in the morning, as they always had been. He had the slight conscious effort to take off his pants before actually falling asleep, an arm over Patrick’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Alright.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!  
> Love you!


	7. you are my sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're beans, what can I say.  
> Oh, also, tw for cutting (it's only implied but still)

Cold. Cold and alone. He was utterly alone. No. No, he wasn’t. A heartbreaking scream from behind him informed him of that. He didn’t want to look. He turned around anyway, almost without control of his own body. Patrick was sobbing, sitting on the floor. There was blood coming from his arms. They were in Brendon’s room. There was blood under Patrick. Brendon didn’t know the exact source. “Brendon, how could you?” Patrick asked. His voice was broken. He was broken. 

Brendon searched desperately, everything he could. His reaction was to look at Patrick’s eyes. Always look at Patrick’s eyes. It’s the only way he could tell what he was really feeling. The eyes that stared back at him were not Patrick’s eyes. They were pale, paler than the sky when dusk set in, and chilled Brendon to the bone like ice. “How could you?” Patrick’s asked again. His brows were furrowed, a look of both anger and hurt on his features. Brendon looked back down at the other’s arms, watching the blood that steadily seeped down and dripped from his elbows.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon said, finally finding his voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say, steadily repeated it like a broken mantra that he couldn’t wrap his head fully around. His body shook. He wasn’t doing the shaking. “Brendon?” Patrick asked it. But it sounded distant. “Brendon, wake up.” That yanked him away from whatever the fuck he was seeing and he blinked his eyes open. 

Patrick was over him. His eyes were a familiar aquamarine. They were filled with worry. He sat up so quickly it almost knocked Patrick off of him, yanking at the shorter’s arms. The pale skin was clean. There was no blood anywhere. “Brendon, are you okay? You were saying you were sorry in your sleep.” One arm pulled from Brendon’s hand, a thumb brushing the taller’s cheek. Brendon had been crying. Brendon blinked, looking back up to Patrick’s face. 

His features were twisted to worry. There was no anger, no hurt. Just worry. Brendon nodded, “Yeah, I’m.” He started, but then shrugged. What was he? Sorry? Fine? He didn’t know what to be sorry for, he wasn’t sure he really was fine. It was terrifying. He focused on Patrick’s face for a moment, but the shrill screams and sobs of his dream wouldn’t leave his ears, the blood and tears wouldn’t leave his eyes. He was terrified. 

“It’s late. Do you wanna try to get back to sleep?” Brendon blinked at him. He shook his head finally, and Patrick shifted off of him. He had been sitting on Brendon’s legs, right at the edge of his knees. Brendon hadn’t even noticed until Patrick got off him. He settled beside the taller, “Do you wanna talk about it?” Brendon blinked. It took him a minute to really even process Patrick’s words. Did he want to talk about it? Did he want to tell him what happened? He blinked again. Maybe he should.

“We were in my room. And you were bleeding. Your arms were bleeding. And you were crying. And you kept asking me.” He stopped, having to breathe. The first part, he had rushed it out. Talked as fast as he could have and still made sure it was coherent. He didn’t want to have to repeat it. “You kept asking me how could I. I.. I don’t know what I did.. And.. And you looked angry. And I couldn’t help you. And I couldn’t move.. And you just.. You just.. Sat there.. And bled..” He could feel the tears etching down his cheeks.

Patrick shushed him, pulling him closer and holding his head to the shorter’s chest. Steady fingers weaved through coarse hair, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. It’s all okay. It was just a bad dream.” Brendon sniffled, “Can.. Can you sing for me?” Patrick pressed his lips against Brendon’s head, “What do you want me to sing?” Brendon shrugged, “Anything.” Patrick laughed breathily, “I can sing you a lullaby?” Brendon nodded. Patrick took a breath before singing.

_“Honey is for bees, silly bear  
Besides, there’s jelly beans everywhere  
It’s not what it seems in the land of dreams  
Don’t worry your head, just go to sleep.” _

Brendon sniffled into Patrick’s chest as he continued to sing. He had no idea what the song was from. He had never heard it before. He didn’t care. He didn’t even grasp onto the words, he just let Patrick’s voice calm him down. His heart went from thumping against his rib cage like a rabbit to the rhythmic tapping like toes to a catchy song.

“Are you better now, Bren?” Patrick asked softly, moving back slightly. Brendon clutched Patrick’s torso, pulling him back close to him. He wanted to safety and comfort of the shorter there, holding him and keeping him grounded. He was so afraid that being without him, he would end up lost in his thoughts and stuck in his anxiety. Patrick shushed him softly, rocking his body back and forth gently side to side. “You want me to sing you something else?” Patrick asked after a moment.

Brendon didn’t need to nod, but did anyways. 

_“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  
You make me happy when skies are grey  
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you  
Please don’t take my sunshine away.” _

Brendon didn’t hold back the laugh, lifting his head away from Patrick’s chest to look up at him. He was serious. His pretty blue eyes were filled with tears, which Brendon couldn’t fully understand. He decided to ask. Patrick laughed, his voice soft, “Because, stupid, I wish I could do more.” Brendon scoffed, “You’re doing a lot more than you realize.” Patrick smiled, his eyes rolling, “You’re so stupid. Are you okay now?” Brendon nodded, “Better.” 

“Do you want to try and go back to sleep?” Brendon shook his head so fast he was afraid his neck would break, “Can I watch TV?” Patrick blinked but didn’t question it, “Of course, silly B. Do you want me to try and stay up with you?” Brendon shrugged, “You can go back to sleep if you want to, Trick.” Patrick let him situate up on the bed, so his back was to the headboard and he could click on the television with the remote. Patrick moved around and rested his head on Brendon’s lap, so he could see whatever show was on as well.

Brendon put a hand down onto the shorter’s side, stroking his ribs with his thumb through the shirt he was wearing. He thought he felt Patrick hum against him. He didn’t question it.

At some point in the night, he fell asleep.

 

“Brendon, wake up, it’s morning. I wanna go home.” Patrick pushed his shoulder, Brendon mumbled something unintelligible to even his own ears. “Brendon! Get up!” Patrick was snappy, he sounded annoyed, he sounded _tired_ and bored of being here. Brendon blinked his eyes open, frowning, “What is it, Trick?” He looked as tired as he sounded. His hair was ruffled. His hat was on crooked. Brendon reached over to fix it.

“Can we please go home?” Patrick iquired. “Will you drive?” Brendon questioned, raising a brow. Patrick curled his lip. That answered that question. “Alright, give me five.” “I need to use that rose oil again on you.” So after Brendon got ready, he sat obediently on the side of the bed and held his mouth open, tongue lifted. Patrick patted his head when he was done. Brendon leaned and kissed his cheek. Patrick didn’t know how to react, and didn’t. Not negatively, not positively. Brendon didn’t push it.

The packing was done in silence and Brendon took both down to the car, waiting for Patrick as the other did whatever it was he had to do. When Patrick got into the car, he leaned over the center console and kissed Brendon’s cheek. Brendon smiled the whole drive home, ignoring when Patrick asked why he was smiling. He even managed to capture his hand when they were at one of the gas stations they stopped at on the route. 

 

When they got back to the apartment, Brendon grabbed the bags before Patrick could even get out of the car. “You know I can carry some too, right, B?” Patrick asked, rubbing his eye. He had fallen asleep in the last half an hour back to Chicago, which made Brendon smile every time he saw him out of the corner of his eye. “You need to unlock the front door.” Brendon informed, smiling. 

Patrick rolled his eyes, but turned to the apartment complex anyways. Brendon followed behind him with both suitcases (after closing the trunk and locking the car) and waited patiently for him to unlock the door when they got to the second floor. “Home sweet home.” Patrick announced dryly, and Brendon closed the door behind himself with his foot. He carried the suitcases to their respective rooms, leaving Patrick’s in the corner of his room and dropping his own on his bed.

He decided to unpack, taking his meds (because he had forgotten once again) and then putting his shit where it needed to be. By the time he was done, he was tired. “Can you help me with my shit, please, B?” Patrick asked, sounding sweeter than he had before. Brendon smiled, “Course, Trick.” Once all of Patrick’s stuff was, they were both tired. “Wanna watch TV and lay out on the couch and be my pillow?” Patrick asked, glancing over at Brendon.

Brendon wanted to say no because he wanted to know what the fuck they were to each other after two cheek kisses and what they shared last night- before his dream and after. But he nodded instead, smiling. Patrick lead the way, Brendon let him so that he could hide his lovesick gaze. Patrick waited for Brendon to lay down first, though. So, Brendon did, laying out across the couch- one leg in the cushions, one hanging off the side, his back to the arm of it.

Patrick nestled his way between Brendon’s legs, his own back resting perfectly against Brendon’s chest. Brendon let one arm snake around to drape over Patrick’s torso as the shorter cut on the television and found something to watch. 

 

Hours later, instead of actually going to their beds, Patrick instructed him to open his mouth and lift his tongue- the oil was dropped under his tongue and he swallowed out of habit -then rested back against him. Brendon had no complaints, holding Patrick a little closer and letting himself drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee kids.  
> When the fuck are you gonna talk about it 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter!  
> Love you!!


	8. jelly bean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Cutting
> 
>  
> 
> _You are my sunshine.._

An immediate rush of pain coursed through him. Claws dug deep into his skin, holding him firmly in place. “How could you?” The question echoed around him with a thousand different sources, but all of them were Patrick. They were all Patrick and Patrick was angry with him and Patrick _hated_ him. Patrick wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted nothing to do with Brendon, or anything that would remind him of Brendon.

The question was echoed again, this time a shrill screech. Brendon wanted to pull his arms up to plug his ears, but his arms were trapped in place, tiny hooked claws keeping them firm and together. Brendon felt the tears leaving wet impressions down his face. For some reason, out of the void that made up the room he was in, appeared a boy. Brendon recognized Patrick immediately, even without his hat and crying. The question finally came from one source.

“How could you?” Patrick asked the words with a hollow voice. His arms were out in front of him, blood pouring from pale skin like a crimson waterfall. “Patrick, what did I do?” Brendon finally found his voice, heard how dejected and broken he sounded. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” Patrick sneered, then thrusted his arms out in front of him. The blood was streaming from his wrists, from thousands of little cuts that riddled up and down his arms. 

“I didn’t..” Brendon tried to move his feet but the claws dug deeper in, reminding him he couldn’t go anywhere. “How could you!?” Patrick screamed it this time and it echoed from the surrounding walls, cutting into Brendon’s ears like daggers. “I didn’t do it!” Brendon shouted out, racked around a sob. He repeated it over and over again, before his words vanished and changed into just the bawling. 

_“It’s all make believe in your land of dreams, silly bear.”_ Patrick whispered. It sounded like he was right at his ear, murmuring into his soul. “Patrick?” Brendon asked, heart stopping for a brief moment. The voice had been Patrick’s, but it was soft and sweet and caring and warm and everything that Brendon loved about Patrick. It wasn’t screaming and harsh judgement and anger. 

_“Wake up, jelly bean. Come on, wake up. It’s just a bad dream. I brought you some water.”_ Patrick coaxed, his voice a soft, sweet croon. His voice got louder as the binds Brendon had with his dream world snapped, as the claws let go and released him, as the Patrick in front of him changed from one full of anger and red wrists to candy smiles and worried eyes. He blinked, looking up at Patrick. 

“Can you tell me where you are, jelly bean?” Patrick asked, his voice soft and caring. Brendon thought for a minute before the answer croaked out, “The couch?” Patrick nodded, smiling widely, “Good. Do you remember what happened in your dream?” Brendon nodded, hesitant. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Brendon shook his head, no hesitation whatsoever. He really didn’t want to talk about it right now, he didn’t want to bother Patrick.

“Do you think you can get back to sleep?” “Don’t want to.” Brendon whispered in response, shaking his head and looking down. Patrick was sitting on Brendon’s lap, straddling his waist. One hand was holding a bottle of water, the other was holding a bottle of pills. “What’s that?” Brendon asked, tipping his head back up from his gaze on the pills. Patrick’s cheeks flushed, “It’s uh. Your xanax. I figured.. It’d help you..” He sounded like he was nervous, like he had done something wrong.

Brendon opened his mouth, waiting. The pill dropped onto his tongue and started to dissolve, but Patrick knew better and pressed the water bottle to his lips, tipping it up as Brendon swallowed gradually. “Thanks, Trick.” Patrick smiled, “Of course, B.” Lips brushed for a slight second when Patrick dipped down and just barely kissed Brendon off the side of his mouth, then pulled back and settled on Brendon, looking at the television. It was playing something still, but Brendon simply began to pet Patrick’s hair, smiling when the shorter let out a deep sigh.

He was still sitting there, weaving his hair through Patrick’s fingers, when the medicine kicked in. And again when the sun rose. He found himself smiling a lot as he watched whatever the fuck was actually on the television. He had forgotten what it was. Patrick shifted on his lap, grunting. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Brendon cooed. “Suck a dick. Let me up.” Brendon laughed, complying instantly. His best friend was such a dick in the mornings.

While Patrick was gone, Brendon situated out on the couch until his long body was stretched fully. When Patrick returned, Brendon shifted around and allowed for the boy to lay across his front. Patrick did so without hesitation, draping himself over Brendon like a sheet. “Good morning.” Patrick was always more pleasant after he was awake for a few minutes. “Morning, B.” Patrick murmured, nuzzling against Brendon’s chest.

“Do you need to do the oil thing?” Brendon asked after a moment of just laying there, head tilted to the television. “Yeah. Will you grab it? It’s on the table.” Brendon reached behind himself, feeling around for the vial of oil. He almost knocked it off the table but grasped his hand around it quickly and pulled it down to hand it to Patrick. He opened his mouth, tongue lifted, and Patrick dropped the liquid in. He swallowed it down and Patrick reached over him, his neck in front of Brendon’s face, to put the vial back.

Brendon scraped teeth over a pretty, pale neck. Patrick wiggled a little more than necessary coming back down. His pink cheeks were the only thing that betrayed his calm demeanor as he turned and looked back at the television. Brendon simply smiled down at him, petting him gently. Four shows later, there was a knock at the front door. “Who is it!?” Brendon shouted out. “Let us in!” Spencer and Dallon shouted in unison. Brendon laughed, Patrick grumpily moving around to let him up. 

He walked to the door, opening it up to see two of his friends. “What’s up, Brendon? Where have you been?” Dallon asked, grinning. He walked past Brendon to get in the house before he got an answer. “Patrick and I went to New Orleans for a few days to check out some shit. Mardi Gras was pretty lit.” Brendon waved Spencer in, the boy smiling his appreciation and stepping in with gentle steps. Spencer always was the more polite one of them. “Damn, you let me miss it?” Dallon sounded like he was in the kitchen.

“Get out of the fridge, Dal!” Patrick scolded immediately after Dallon had spoken. “Come on, Patrick! I just want a little something to eat!” “Dallon, the most you’ll find in there is whatever random energy drinks Trick bought for me and maybe, like, some fucking yogurt.” Brendon informed him. Dallon scoffed, “I’m going to buy you guys some fucking food.” Patrick laughed, “Why don’t you just stay at your own fucking house and buy your own shit, Dallon?” 

Brendon rolled his eyes at them and simply lead Spencer to the couch, where the other gladly sat down. “How are you today, Spenc?” Brendon asked, tugging an arm around his friend and grinning at him. “I’m pretty good. How are you, Bren?” Brendon laughed, “I’m. Actually. Not that great. I’ve been having bad dreams and shit.” He shrugged it off, ignoring the concerned look on Spencer’s face and the questioning of why. “Bren, get your fucking friend before I kill him!” Patrick shouted, pulling Brendon attention away. He picked himself up and trailed to the kitchen, where Dallon was holding Patrick’s phone above his head.

“Dallon, give Trick his phone.” Brendon scolded. Dallon gasped, “What happened to it being us against him!?” Brendon narrowed his eyes, glaring at Dallon. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. Something that made Brendon slightly unnerved. He was going to reply, but Dallon answered for him, “What, did you decide you have undying love for him?” There was a wink. He could be seeing things. There was a wink, though. He was sure.

His cheeks were heating up. He was trying to ignore it, “No?” Dallon laughed, “Awe, Spency look, our wittle Bwendon is bwushing.” Brendon bristled visibly, “Fuck you!” He stomped off. He was pretty ashamed in the fact that he let it happen. He was more ashamed when he went to go lay in Patrick’s room, cuddled up to his pillow. He heard Patrick scolding Dallon, and he heard Spencer scolding Dallon, and then he heard a soft knock on the door. He didn’t say anything. Dallon was whining about why both Spencer and Patrick were fussing at him.

“Brendon?” Spencer’s voice was at the door. He probably saw him to go Patrick’s room. “What?” Brendon asked, not as annoyed as he would have been. Not as annoyed as he was before. “Can I come in?” Brendon shrugged for a moment before realizing that Spencer couldn’t see him. “I guess.” Spencer pushed open the door and closed it gently behind him, striding over to the bed and sitting down on the corner of it. His fingers went through Brendon’s hair, “What’s up, dude?”

Brendon shrugged. “You know we know you like him, right?” Spencer asked, a brow raised. Brendon’s eyes widened, “What?” Spencer smiled, “You’re seriously not subtle, Brendon. We all know. How Patrick doesn’t is amazing.” Brendon’s eyes were impossibly wider, “What?” It was a complete repeat, he knew, he didn’t care. “Brendon, seriously calm down. We all know. Now, wanna tell me why you freaked out?” Something about Spencer made Brendon immediately want to let go of his problems.

So he did, telling him exactly what happened over the week they had been gone, and how crazy his emotions were. He didn’t tell him about his dream. Spencer nodded, “Have you tried actually talking to him about it?” Brendon shook his head, “What if he says that it’s nothing, that it’s just us being best friends, that it doesn’t mean anything?” Brendon knew he was going to cry, he may have already been crying, he didn’t know. “Brendon, he fucking cuddled with you for two days straight. Come on, just ask him about it. Hell, write him a note if you need to.” Brendon perked up at that idea.

He could write him a note. “You’re a genius!” Brendon shouted, jolting up and wrapping his arms tightly around Spencer. Spencer laughed, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go back in there before Dallon and Patrick kill each other.”

 

“Bye, guys.” Brendon said. He was trying to sound cheerful. He had been trying to get them to leave for an hour so he could go write his note because he was like a school boy with a crush. After his talk with Spencer, he was a lot less stressed, more easy going when Dallon picked on him about Patrick and multiple other things. “Call me later, Bren! Let me know how that thing goes!” Brendon smiled at Spencer, “Will do! Be careful.” 

He closed the door and sighed, walking to the couch just to crash onto it. “Don’t break the couch.” Patrick scolded from the kitchen. “Whatcha doin’, Trick?” Brendon questioned. “Ordering groceries. Anything you want?” Patrick slowly strolled his way back into the living room and sat beside Brendon, showing him the list on his phone. Brendon went down it, picked out a few things, then handed it back to Patrick. “Thaaanks. You’re buying, by the way. It’s your week.” 

Brendon sighed, “Alright, alright.” He wasn’t really upset about it. Not too badly. He was lucky that his mom literally gave him an allowance straight to his bank account. “You should call your mom.” Patrick said. Brendon raised a brow, “Why?” “Because you haven’t talked to her in almost a week. You know how she loves her baby.” Brendon shrugged, “True. I am her favourite after all.” Patrick rolled his eyes, “That’s not what I said.” 

He smiled at Patrick in return and pulled his phone out. His mom answered on the second ring, “Brendon! It’s about time you called! I was getting worried.” His mother was immediate to scold him about not calling. “I’m sorry, mom! I got busy this week! How are you?” Grace scoffed, “Busy. How did you do on your final?” Brendon smiled, “I did good, I think. It didn’t take me that long, and I actually studied this time.” “And how did Patrick do on his?” 

“Oh, he did really good. I’m certain. He said it was really easy.” His mother clicked her tongue, “You know that could mean he failed too if it was too easy.” Brendon shook his head, despite his mother not being able to see, “No, he’s smart, you know that he did good.” “Yeah, I know.” Grace sounded amused. Brendon went in to filling in his week and what he had done (minus the illegals and the mess that would make her worry) and how he was. Grace gave him an update on his siblings, father, and everything else. It was normal.

“I’ve gotta go, mom. I need to help Trick put stuff up.” Brendon said almost half an hour later. “You tell him I love him! And I love you!” Brendon laughed gently, “I love you too, mom. And he does too.” When he finally did get off the phone with his mom, Patrick had unpacked almost half the groceries, putting them in the fridge. “Mom said she loves you.” He informed the shorter as he glided into the kitchen. Patrick beamed up at him, “I love your mom. Will you cook supper?” Brendon smiled, “Of course I will. What is it tonight?” 

He was informed that he could make whatever he wanted as long as there were mushrooms and peppers involved. He took that creative allowance into making spaghetti and garlic bread. “Trick!” Brendon shouted out as he fixed the shorters plate. He made sure to put more mushrooms on Patrick’s plate than on his own. “Thanks, B!” Patrick chirped out, taking the plate with a smile. He hummed his response as he fixed his own plate, watching as Patrick plopped a piece of cheese on his pasta. 

They ate in the living room, Brendon’s feet on the coffee table and crossed at the ankles. They watched television and were silent between each other, outside of the occasional joke during commercials. When they were finished, Brendon took Patrick’s plate and walked to the kitchen. “You promised me cookies when I was a wolf.” Brendon reminded as Patrick trailed in the kitchen behind him. “Shit, that I did. I was wondering what those chocolate chips were doing in the groceries.” 

So, Patrick went to working on the cookies and making the apartment smell heavenly while Brendon washed dishes, did laundry, and danced around like an idiot while he cleaned the living room. When the cookies were out of the oven and on the cooling rack, Brendon stole three of them before Patrick scolded him and ran him off. 

And when they were all cool and put up and Brendon and Patrick were going to bed, Brendon was awarded a sweet kiss to the lips and a soft, whispered good night and command to come to Patrick’s room if he had another nightmare. 

He didn’t have a nightmare that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Brendon's mom  
> I love Spencer  
> Maybe they'll talk soon  
> Brendon is trying.


	9. all you sinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete Wentz had his baby yesterday  
> Her name is Marvel Jane Wentz  
> I love her already  
> She's a precious bean

He did wake up with Patrick wriggled into his bed, though. “Good morning.” Patrick murmured. He was petting Brendon’s hair, and it felt like Brendon’s head was in his lap. Brendon yawned, stretching out. When he looked up, he was met with Patrick’s bright eyes looking down at him, a soft smile on pretty lips. “Good morning.” Brendon’s voice was pretty hoarse, but it was okay. Patrick smiled wider, “How did you sleep?” Brendon shrugged, “I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“That’s good. I wasn’t sure. I know how you are. I decided to come see myself.” Brendon laughed softly, “Yeah.” A hand captured his. It squeezed gently. He squeezed back. “Are you ready for breakfast?” “You mean am I ready to cook breakfast. Yeah, I guess so. What are you wanting today? Not pancakes.” “Nah, not pancakes. I actually made breakfast. Muffins.” Brendon sighed, “I love you.” Patrick laughed, rolling his eyes. Brendon got up and stretched, heading off for the kitchen.

“Banana nut!” Patrick informed him. “Did I say how much I love you!?” “Yeah! Love you too, B!” Patrick said the words around a laugh. Brendon smiled. He liked making Patrick laugh. He also liked Patrick’s baking. He plucked a muffin from where they were cooling, buzzing with warmth and delight as the delectable breakfast melted in his mouth with swirls of cinnamon and banana. It was almost orgasmic. He definitely moaned.

“I assume you like them.” Patrick teased as he walked through towards the kitchen. Brendon grinned, “I always love your baking, Trick.” Patrick rolled his eyes as he grabbed up one of his own from the spot, humming with his own happiness. It made Brendon smile, at least. “Any plans for the day?” Brendon questioned. “See what Joe is up to? I don’t really have a lot to do. I have work in like two hours though.” Brendon frowned, “So you’re leaving me in two hours?” 

Patrick laughed, “Hour and a half. I’ll be back later though. Around 8 tonight.” Brendon sighed. He would be alone for 8 hours. He didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he could have the guys over. “Don’t throw a party while I’m gone. And try not to go to one tonight, please?” “Can I have the guys over and drink?” Patrick looked like he was debating it for a minute before sighing. He nodded, “Long as there’s no drinking and driving. So anyone you want over, they either take an Uber or they sleep on the couch.” 

“I said the guys, who do you think I mean?” “Pete, Joe, Dallon, possibly Andy, maybe Jon, Spencer, and definitely Kenny.” Brendon blinked, “You know me too well. If I can’t go to a party, can I just go to Pete’s? There’s more couches. Enough for him to actually let everyone sleep on them. If we do it here, everyone’s going to be everywhere. We don’t have that huge of an apartment.” Patrick frowned but sighed once again, “Yeah that’s fine. Just try to text me if you’re staying over there or if you need me to go get you, B. I don’t want to stay up all night worried as fuck.” 

“I’ll let you know, dude, chill.” Patrick blinked, frowning. Brendon didn’t notice it, walking past Patrick to go back to his room. He settled onto his bed, put his laptop onto his lap, and texted Spencer. Spencer would be awake. Between texts, he watched Netflix. He didn’t really have anything else to do. At some point, Patrick left. He heard the front door close. He didn’t get a goodbye. It made Brendon a little sad. 

Sometime later, Pete called and told him he was outside. The rest of the guys were already at his house. He pushed his laptop off his lap to his bed and closed it, making sure he had his keys and phone in his pocket before locking up and walking down to Pete’s car. “Hey, dude.” Brendon greeted, opening the door and relaxing out in the passenger seat. “Hey.” Pete replied, grinning over at him before turning up the radio. It was Metallica, unsurprisingly. The drive over to Pete’s house was filled with the two of them scream-singing. 

When they got to the house and out of the car, there was a loud shout. “Brendon!” A tall boy was standing on the porch, a grin on his features to show white teeth. “Gabey!” Brendon was unashamed to admit that he ran up the stairs and collided with Gabe, his arms wrapping tightly around his torso and his head burying in the boy’s chest. Gabe laughed, his arms coiling around Brendon, “Did you miss me?” Brendon grinned up at Gabe, “No, I wish you had stayed gone.” 

“Wow, did you lose manners while we were gone?” A different voice asked. Brendon blinked and looked around Gabe’s body. Another tall boy. Fair skin and long brown hair. A sweet smile showed slightly crooked teeth. “Bill!” Brendon let go of Gabe just to go crashing into the other, almost whimpering into William’s grip. “Brenny.” William cooed, nuzzling his nose into Brendon’s hair. It was comfort. It was sweet comfort and shirts smelling like fresh linen and the sharp tang of cologne and everything Brendon had missed for weeks. 

“Guys, this is great and all, but why don’t you go in so that we can drink and smoke inside. Instead of out on the porch.” Pete scolded, to which Brendon stuck his tongue out at him. But he did comply, letting William lead the way into the house with Gabe throwing an arm over him and walking beside. Joe, Kenny, Dallon, Andy, Jon, Spencer, Siska, Josh, and Tyler were all laid out in the living room in various places. Siska was arguing with Spencer and Josh about aliens on the couch. Tyler was laughing with Andy and Joe around the loveseat. 

Jon and Kenny were sitting on the floor either side of Dallon, who was in the chair. All three of them were on their phones, just showing each other stuff that apparently was funny when they came across it. None of them looked up when Pete, Gabe, William, and Brendon came in. Well, not until Brendon shouted. “Hey, fucktards!” His voice was chipper, breaking Siska, Spencer, Josh, and Joe out of their conversations. Andy looked up and smiled, Tyler jumped up from the floor and hurried over to hug Brendon. 

Jon and Kenny looked up from their phones, grinning, “Hey, Brendon.” Dallon stayed sitting in the chair, his eyes taking forever to look up over his phone, “Hey, stupid.” Brendon smiled at Dallon, his arms around Tyler, “Hey, idiot.” Tyler broke from him and went back to his spot between Andy and Joe’s feet. “Who has weed?” Brendon asked, grinning. His first thought would be Joe or Josh. His second would be Gabe and Siska. “Me, Pete, Will, Josh, Joe, Spencer, and Sisky all have some.” Gabe informed from his left. So he was correct.

“Who’s starting?” Brendon continued with a grin. The sound of a lighter answered his question. He looked over to see Gabe lighting a joint, taking a drag before passing it to Brendon. Pete came in with drinks. It was a regular guy’s night for them. 

 

Hours later, Brendon was squished on the couch between Spencer and Dallon with William behind him. Joe was beside Spencer. Gabe was reclined on one arm of the couch, Pete was bouncing around his friends, and Siska was on the other arm of the couch. Tyler was sitting in the chair Dallon had originally been in, his long legs over one arm of the chair and his back against the other. Andy and Jon were on the loveseat, Kenny draped over their laps. Josh was against Brendon’s legs, his head dropped back onto the taller’s knees, eyes closed.

“So you seriously haven’t asked him out yet? We thought that you’d have at least sucked his dick by now, Brendon.” William asked, his fingers playing in Brendon’s hair. “No, I dunno how to ask.” “First you can start with getting a fucking haircut.” Gabe informed, reaching over and tugging at the long locks. “What do you mean!?” Brendon asked, immediate offense taking him over for maybe two seconds before he was smiling again. “What he means is your hair looks like something from fucking MySpace. Change it, dude.” Pete informed helpfully. Brendon rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the giggles.

“I could cut it.” Tyler offered. Brendon looked over at him, hesitant. “Or I can.” Josh said from Brendon’s knees, brown eyes sliding open. “Hell, why not.” Brendon grinned, seriously ready for some change. His hair had been bothering him, too long and covering his eyes too much lately. “Tomorrow. I’m tired.” Josh nuzzled his head back and closed his eyes again. “You’re gonna hate yourself if you sleep like that.” Pete piped up.

“I already hate myself. But you’re right.” For some reason, that reminded Brendon that he had promised to tell someone something. He couldn’t remember what exactly that was, or to who. Pete seemed to be reading his mind, though, “Did you tell Patrick you’re staying, Brendon?” Brendon looked up from where his fingers were curling in Josh’s hair, “No. Fuck. Will you tell him?” Pete rolled his eyes, “I feel like a fucking father with you guys.” He grumbled it as he left the space, going off towards the kitchen.

“Thanks, daddy Pete!” Brendon shouted off to him. “Unless you’re gonna suck my dick, don’t call me that!” Pete shouted back. Brendon just grinned.

At some point, Josh fell asleep against Brendon’s legs. Dallon, Spencer, and Joe had all vanished to go to one of the multiple guest rooms. Andy stood from the couch, stretching, “I’m gonna go find out where Joe is sleeping at.” Brendon smiled drowsily up at him, “Alright, dude. Sleep well.” Andy smiled in response, “You too.” Siska yawned on the floor, where he had propped himself up against it minutes before, “I think I’m gonna sleep on the floor. You think someone would step on me?”

Kenny scoffed, “Of course not. Maybe.” Siska stuck his tongue out at the other, “Shut up, pretty boy. Go sleep with Jon.” Jon had laid out on the loveseat, one arm thrown off over Kenny’s shoulder. “Both of you shut up and go to sleep or go away.” Tyler grumbled from the chair he was still across. He was now the other way, though, so his front was facing towards the television that was playing some odd shit Pete had put on it. “I’m gonna sleep over there beside the chair.” Siska said confidently before walking over and plopping himself onto the ground.

He curled up uncomfortably on the ground, though seemed content, so Brendon didn’t say anything about it. William and Gabe were slumped on the couch either side of Brendon. Gabe was leaning against the arm of the couch, William was leaning on Brendon. Brendon was sitting there for a few minutes before Pete arrived, putting blankets and pillows for certain people, tucking others in. He was being a serious father figure. “Joe and Andy are in the big guest bedroom. Dallon and Spencer are laid out on the other one.” Pete informed Brendon, who smiled and nodded.

“Thanks, P.” Pete smiled at him, “Yeah, well, one of us has to be responsible and I’m the least fucked up of you all. Kenny, are you sleeping there or do you want a pillow? Sisky, you want a pillow?” They both said yes, so Pete smiled and hurried back to wherever the fuck he was getting all the pillows and blankets. When he came back, he put one pillow under Siska’s head, one in Kenny’s lap, and draped blankets over both of them.

“Josh, dude, wake up and move over. Please?” Brendon asked, shaking Josh gently. He grumbled for a minute before finally questioning. “Move over onto that pillow. Lay down. Your neck will feel better if you do.” He soothed, his voice soft. Josh obeyed after a second, probably of having to figure out the words. When he did, Brendon pushed William so that he was against the other arm of the couch.

Once that was good, he laid down, his legs in Gabe’s lap (who instantly put an arm over them) and his head in William’s (who drowsily rested his hand on Brendon’s side.) A blanket was draped over him and Pete kissed the side of his head, “Goodnight, Brendon. Sleep well.” Brendon tried to return the words. He wasn’t sure it came out as more than a mumbled mess of indescribable words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all here.  
> Some of these kids are gay as fuck  
> Can you figure out which ones?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed  
> Please let me know what you think  
> Love you!


	10. about a guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang is back.

He was more compact when he woke up. Gabe was gone from the other side of the couch, William was petting Brendon’s thick hair. “Good morning.” Brendon grumbled in return, shifting around in William’s lap until he was turned around, his nose tucked against the taller’s waist. “Brendon! Breakfast!” Pete shouted from the other room. “Hungover!” Siska shouted, annoyed. Brendon laughed softly but nuzzled up close to William. “He’s half-asleep, Pete.” William said the words softer than Pete had, loud enough for him to hear but not too loud for Siska’s sake.

“Come on, get up, let’s get something to eat, hmm?” William coaxed, turning Brendon’s head so that it was tilted up and facing William. Brendon blinked his eyes opened, brows furrowed. William smiled down at him, “Good morning, sunshine! Come on, let’s get breakfast.” It took a bit more coaxing but soon enough, Brendon was up and walking to the kitchen. A redbull was instantly thrusted into his hands. He shot a grin at Kenny for it before settling down at the bar, leaning across it towards where Pete was cooking at the stove.

“French toast. Because you’re all inconsistent assholes.” Pete announced when the first plate was fixed. He hit the side of the sifter, Brendon watching as powdered sugar dropped from it onto the pieces of eggy bread. Dallon swooped in and got it, sitting beside Brendon and stuffing his face. Then Brendon’s plate, William making sure that none of the others got it first. It went down the line until everyone was given a plate, Tyler and Josh being around the first while William and Pete made sure everyone else had something before getting their own. 

It faintly reminded Brendon of Saturday mornings when he was younger. It was nice. Brendon stayed at the bar long after he was finished, watching as Pete meticulously fixed the plates, and William handed them out. No one dared question William. No one tried to take a plate from anyone else. It was calm. They were calm. “Thanks, mom.” Gabe mused when he grabbed his plate. William grinned up at him and kissed him on the cheek, “You’re welcome.” 

When everyone was happy and filled and ready to actually start the day (which meant energy drinks for some people, coffee for others,) they went back to the couch. Well, they being Pete, Gabe, William, and Brendon. The rest went off to do whatever they wanted to do. Brendon sat between Gabe and William, Pete on Gabe’s other side. Neither of the two tallest had an issue with it, throwing their arms around Brendon with a smile. Okay, Gabe’s was more of a smirk but William’s was a smile.

“Have you talked to Patrick yet?” William questioned as his fingers weaved through Brendon’s thick hair. “You’ve been around me all morning. No I haven’t talked to him yet.” William frowned, “Maybe you should. Let him know you’re up and okay.” Brendon debated it for a moment, was even going to talk. Then Josh bounced in. “When do you want me to cut your hair?” Brendon blinked, tipping his head back so that he could see the purple-haired boy in question. “I guess any time?” 

By any time, he hadn’t meant immediately. He hadn’t planned on that meaning that he was willing to sit down in a chair for over thirty minutes. Yet thirty minutes later, Josh was still working on his hair, snipping here and there. “Go get me some of your gel, Pete.” Josh commanded briskly. This was a whole new Josh that Brendon had rarely seen. A Josh in control and commanding. “I love it when you get all demanding.” Pete teased in a coo before vanishing off. Josh rolled his eyes, cheeks flushed softly with a gentle kiss of pink that looked like the pale hydrangeas Brendon’s mom had planted in her flower garden. 

When Pete returned, hair gel in hand, Brendon only got slightly nervous. Mark, a guy that had graduated a year ago, had recently cut down Pete’s hair so that it was still in a spiky phaze around the front. It was a great improvement from his longer hair, a style Brendon had based his own look on. Look, it was cool at the time, okay? Brendon just hadn’t gotten the memo that he needed to cut his hair like his friends had. Leave him alone.

Five minutes after Pete returned, Brendon was being handed a mirror. His hair, once long and covering over his eyes, had been trimmed down to a quiff. It was shorter than most guy’s he had seen, almost the height of Pete’s. It was spiked up and styled back. Brendon ran a hand through it, grimacing at the feel of the gel, but smiling about the new-ness. It looked really fucking good. “I feel jealous for anyone that gets to have sex with me. They’d get to see this hot piece of ass.” “And his narcissism returns. Why did we let you do this, Josh?” Siska asked from where he was lazily scrolling on his phone. 

“Because he looked like it was 2005? Even Gerard Way changed his style up.” Dallon offered with a barely-held snicker. That was enough to make Pete go into his own mini-hysterics about the loss of My Chemical Romance. Brendon rolled his eyes and tipped his head back to smile up at Josh, who was admiring his own work. “Thanks, Josh.” Hazelnut-brown eyes flickered to his and smiled in return, “You’re welcome, Brendon. Gotta do something to get that guy.” “Speaking of that guy. Brendon, you should call him.” William piped up, nudging Brendon’s leg.

So he did. And he didn’t tell Patrick about his hair. And Patrick told him he didn’t have work today. And Brendon had a sudden want to go see Patrick. Gabe had other plans. “Come on, esé.” He half-drug Brendon from the kitchen to outside, to Pete’s car. He must have read the look of confusion on Brendon’s face because he grinned, watched as William got in the back of the car, and told him, “Shopping.” 

He wasn’t told what kind of shopping. When they got to the mall, he simply assumed for clothes. Which was weird. He had plenty of clothes. He voiced that and got a “Relax, güero.” He let both boys lead him into the mall, through a multitude of stores, and really anywhere. “Slow down, conejito.” Gabe shouted from behind him when he went a little too wild, looking for something Patrick would like. He stopped immediately, turning around to look at Gabe with wide eyes.

“What are you looking for?” Gabe questioned, a brow raised. “Something Trick will like, duh.” Gabe, in response, made some weird snort-like sound. “So like this?” William asked, popping out of racks. In his hand was a white sweater that looked like it would be too big for him. “Try it on.” Gabe instructed, taking the sweater from William and thrusting it out to Brendon. Brendon was slightly hesitant but took it anyways, looking at William. “Go try it on, I’ll find some more stuff for you.” William beamed at him before vanishing, pulling Gabe behind him. Brendon went off to find a place to change.

The sweater was, as expected, oversized on him. But in a way that it seemed deliberate. When William commanded he come out so that the taller could see him, he questioned it. “It’s cute!” William exclaimed, gushing over how the sleeves had holes for his thumbs, and the fact that it was long enough that it went to the bottom of his jean pockets. “Yeah, this is precious. Definitely getting it. Go try on the other stuff.” William commanded it so coolly that Brendon would have been stupid to say no. 

When they finally let him out, he had three new sweaters, two new tanks, a few new pairs of jeans, two pairs of shoes (because William informed him of how ratty his old Converses looked,) a hoodie, and a few new beanies for the sole purpose of wanting them. “Now you can go see Patrick, lobo.” Gabe hummed. “You look pretty.. Pretty.” William said with a smile, ruffling Brendon’s hair. “Thanks, guys.” Brendon thanked, ducking his head down slightly and looking in the side mirror to fix any stray hairs. 

William helped him grab his bags and made the way up the stairs, knocking briefly on the apartment door. “Comin’!” Patrick chirped out. A few seconds later, Brendon heard the patter of his feet. The door opened to reveal Patrick in an oversized black sweater and his pajama pants. His glasses were crooked on his face, like he’d hurried to push them on. He was going to talk, Brendon knew because he opened his mouth to.

But then sea-greens blinked and looked up, taking in all of Brendon. William was practically ignored. Brendon felt like he was being visually devoured. “Um. Hey.” Patrick’s cheeks were pink like Brendon’s mom’s carnations. “Hey, cariño. Do you mind if we come in?” Gabe asked from behind them, almost making Brendon jump. “Of course! When did you and Bilvy get back?” Patrick finally found his voice, stepping back and letting them all in. Gabe stopped and talked to Patrick while Brendon and William went to Brendon’s room to put his clothes up. 

When it was done, William whispered comfort in his ear and let him lead the way out. Patrick was enraptured with whatever Gabe was telling him, leaning over the counter. William nudged Brendon again, making him go forward. Gabe looked up, grinning, “Hey, Brenny.” Brendon lifted a hand, waving without moving his hand much more than a tilt. Patrick’s attention turned to him. He was being drowned in that oceanic gaze again.

“No love for me, Patrick?” William pouted from behind Brendon. Patrick turned to looking at the taller brunette, and smiled, “Of course there’s love for you, Bilvy.” He stood and held out his arms, waiting for the taller. William brushed past Brendon to walk over to him, wrapping his arms around the short boy and picking him up, twirling him around. Patrick squealed like a child in delight, which made Brendon smile widely. Patrick was a precious thing to him. God, he was in too deep.

 

When Gabe and William finally departed, to kisses on either of Brendon’s cheeks, it was quiet in the apartment. Brendon was sitting on the couch, running hands through his hair. Patrick was watching him like a hawk from the other corner of the couch, infatuated. Brendon could see him watching from the corner of his eye. “I like your hair.” Patrick broke the silence between them. Brendon turned and looked at him, “Thanks.” He ignored the heat in his cheeks.

“Why’d you cut it?” Patrick pressed. Brendon blinked. Why did he cut it? To get Patrick to notice him? No, he couldn’t say that. Because Pete told him he had a MySpace hair cut? He blinked again, “Because I wanted some change.” “We could all use a little change.” “Stop fucking singing All Star to me.” Brendon shot out, grinning. Patrick laughed, “You love me.” Brendon’s heart fluttered. “Never said I didn’t.” 

Patrick crawled over the couch on his hands and knees until he was sitting on his calves beside Brendon, his hands on the cushions between his knees. Brendon raised a brow at him. “Can I touch it?” As answer, Brendon tilted his head down towards Patrick. He watched one had leave the cushions, then the other, slowly but surely weaving through Brendon’s hair. “It feels weird.” “I have gel in it.” Patrick made a little hum, then pulled his hands down, “I like it.” Brendon smiled, “Thanks, Trick.” 

“You need a shower though.” Brendon scoffed, “Thanks, Trick.” Patrick laughed, Brendon picked his head back up. Patrick was right, though. He really needed to shower. He smelled like weed, beer, and William. “I order pizza, by the way. Because we’re unhealthy college kids. And summer classes start in two-ish weeks.” “Then I’m gonna go shower and hopefully the pizza will be here when I’m out.” Brendon said with a grin and a wink before heading off to the bathroom.

When he got out, the pizza was, in fact, there. Patrick was stuffing his face on the couch, watching some show with Gordon Ramsay. Brendon was styling his hair a bit, pushing it back. It was soft and dry- for the most part -and he really was digging it. “In the kitchen.” Patrick informed him as he walked past. “I’d die without you, dude.” Patrick hummed in response, as if he knew it to be true. 

Settled down on the couch with his pizza and a Monster, he was happy. There was no weird vibe from unrequited feelings (well, there was to him, but he was ignoring it.) There was no stolen glances or gentle touches. There was barely any talking even between them. They were engrossed with the show. It was like before the trip ever even happened. There was no sweet kisses. Which was saddening on Brendon’s part, but it was okay.

Patrick patted his head on the way to his room, yawning about not staying up too late. Brendon understood, not that he fully listened in the way Patrick probably expected. He laid out on the couch on his side, nuzzling into the arm of the chair as a pillow. The sounds of Gordon Ramsay yelling at people was like a lullaby to Brendon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no one has talked about their feelings to the person that matters.  
> Great.


	11. don't hate me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short---

The sounds of footsteps and Patrick’s singing woke him up. He couldn’t remember having a nightmare- not that it was common for him to remember. A blanket was covering his body. He pushed it off of his abdomen, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. “Good morning!” He shouted the words out, overlaying what Patrick was singing. “Morning.” Patrick replied, his words cutting easily through the silent apartment.

The familiar tink of cereal hitting a bowl made Brendon’s stomach growl. “Will you fix me a bowl?” The sound of a bowl being put on the counter and more cereal being poured was the answer to his question. He waited until he heard the fridge being opened for the second time before pushing himself off the couch and into the kitchen. Patrick was leaning over the counter, eating his cereal. Brendon grabbed his own bowl and sat on the stool Pete had given them forever ago (“You don’t have anywhere to sit. Have a fuckin’ stool or two.” “Where does one get a stool that’s not over a hundred dollars?” “Oh my God. Here.”) 

Patrick scrolled through his phone as he ate. It was silent and serene for a while before Patrick spoke, “S’pposed to rain today. And your mom asked when you’re going to visit her.” Brendon sighed, “I just talked to her like two days ago.” Patrick cut his eyes at the taller, which made Brendon dip his head in shame. “She loves you and she wants to see you, dude. Besides, you only drop by for holidays most of the time. I imagine it’s not that fun. You could go for the Fourth.” Brendon wrinkled his nose, “That’s still a holiday, Trick. Besides, how am I getting there? Driving?”

Patrick shrugged, “Might as well. Go see the clan, catch up on some people. See how your dad’s doing.” Brendon shrugged in return, watching as he turned his head back down to his phone. Patrick had a point, definitely- he should go see his family, check out how his dad was, all the things a good son should do. But would he? “She said she wants to see me, too. So now you have double the reason to go.” Patrick added helpfully when he picked his head back up, a smile on pretty lips. Brendon groaned, “Of course she wants to see you. I swear sometimes it’s like you’re her favourite. And you’re not even her kid!”

Patrick stuck out his tongue, nose wrinkling and the corners of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled. “When do I go?” Brendon asked around a laugh. “I’d love to see her whenever I don’t have work again. Which is the week of the Fourth.” Brendon rolled his eyes, focusing back on his breakfast. Patrick told him he had work. Brendon would be alone again. He could write that note. So, when Patrick left for work, with a faint “Bye, B! I’ll be back at 8!” he went to working on the note. At 7, he worked on supper. It was done at 7:45. At 7:50 he put a plate on the counter for Patrick. At 7:55 he put the note on the plate and went to his room.

At 8, he heard Patrick come in- always on time and proper. At 8:05 he fell asleep on his bed, his phone in hand and his back to the door.


	12. i meant everything i said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.  
> This is the end.  
> All loose ends are tied here.  
> This is definitely not the end of these two, though. I love them too much for that.  
> Enjoy.

He woke up hours later and checked his phone. Midnight. The silent house told him that he was the only occupant awake. He walked to the kitchen, found the dishes put away. He was sure a quick look to the fridge would show the night’s leftovers in Tupperware containers. The counters were clean. Except for a folded piece of paper.

_**Trick,**_

_**I can’t tell you face to face because I’m a fucking wuss after Ryan when it comes to this shit and we both know that. I like you. For two years, I’ve forced my feelings out by banging random strangers I bring to the house. Apartment. Fucking whatever. I don’t regret staying here with you, I regret not making a move.  
Excuse me for being an actual child, but I need to know.** _

_**Do you like me, too?** _

_**Yes or No (in which case I can have my shit packed if you want me to and go sleep at Pete’s)** _

_**Love,  
B **_

It was his note. There was nothing else there. Not until he looked at the bottom. In Patrick’s half-neat handwriting, it said: _**If you can find the other part of the note, you’ll know my answer. Hint: The first time I yelled at you.**_

Brendon blinked. The first time Patrick yelled at him? He frowned, brows furrowing as he thought. He couldn’t remember where the first fight had been. There were countless reasons they could have fought, that he knew. Countless reasons and locations that they did. But the first? He pulled his phone out of his pocket from where it had been shoved before, scrolling down his contacts. Will-Bill. William picked up on the second ring, “Mm, yeah?” Brendon smiled at the familiar sound. He waited a second before speaking, “I need your help.”

 

“I can’t believe you made me walk over here at midnight.” Brendon complained as Wiliam let him in the house. William smiled, “I can’t believe you called me at midnight about a fucking note.” Brendon rolled his eyes, “Is Gabe awake?” William shook his head, “Nope. He’s sleeping. Like I should be. I told him I’d be back in bed later. He was not happy that I moved around on the bed to start with.” Brendon smiled apologetically, “I said I was sorry.” William laughed softly, “Shut up, I know. Come on. It’s supposed to rain again tonight.” 

Brendon followed behind the taller like a baby duck, closing the door quietly behind him. “Did you leave a note telling him you were coming here so he doesn’t wake up and think that you freaked out over what he left you and left fully in case you stay?” William asked as they walked to the kitchen. Brendon gasped, “Ah, fuck!” William shot him a glare. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I left a note on the fridge so he’d see it in the morning.” “You’re not funny.” William commented dryly, turning back to the fridge to grab a drink for both of them. 

A bottle of water was tossed to Brendon, who caught it skillfully before sitting down at the kitchen island. William leaned over the other side towards Brendon, “Show me the note.” Brendon put the water bottle down and reached in his hoodie pocket, pulling out the paper and handing it over to William. Nimble fingers brushed his as William took it, his brown hair like a mask as it dropped into his face and hid his expression when he turned his head down to read. Brendon waited, bouncing his leg against the floor he just managed to reach.

It was a long minute, silent besides the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and the clock ticking somewhere in the living room. Brendon found it amazing he remembered where things were. “I thought you said you were trying to figure out the first place you guys fought?” William asked, picking his head up with a raised brow. Brendon furrowed his brows, “I am.” William’s brow somehow managed to go higher, “This says where he yelled at you first. Not where you fought.” Brendon’s eyes widened, “Fuck! You’re right! So where did he yell at me first?” 

William rolled his eyes, “Didn’t he yell at you for that hole you put in the wall that one day?” Brendon’s eyes were, once again, wide as saucers, “This is why I tell you everything!” “I love both of you, but you’re loud.” Gabe grumbled. Brendon turned to see him shuffling in the kitchen, a blanket thrown around his shoulders like a cape. He moved forward until he sat on the stool beside Brendon, then reached a hand out to pull the paper to him, turning it around, “What are we looking at?” 

“Yours truly over here wrote a note like a fuckin’ school kid. Your favourite little dirty blonde replied with a clue. Brendon is not a Sherlock Holmes.” William explained with a dry, sarcastic tone. Brendon glared at him for a moment. Gabe laughed softly, “Alright. So where did you guys first fight, lobo?” He looked up at the two, and Brendon looked over for a second to see William was glaring at him. “What?” Gabe asked, glancing at Brendon. 

“He didn’t say fight. He said where Patrick yelled at Brendon. Why do none of you understand that?” Gabe held up his hands in surrender. The blanket fell in reaction. “Alright, sorry, sorry. So where did he first yell at you, Brenny?” William walked around the island and picked up the blanket, putting it back on Gabe’s shoulders with a kiss to his cheek. “My room. When I kicked the wall.” Gabe’s eyes widened, “Huh. Wait, why did you kick your wall again?” 

“He got pissed off and decided that taking out his teenage angst would be perfectly done hitting the wall.” William answered before Brendon could even open his mouth to speak. The shorter simply smiled weakly and nodded. Gabe rolled his eyes. Brendon felt immediately sheepish, dipping his head and looking away. “So what now?” Gabe asked William. “Now he needs to go get that note and find out if it has another clue, or if Patrick only wanted to see if he remembered.” “So I have to go back home?” 

“Yes.” William and Gabe both answered in equally deadpan tones. 

 

 _**Good job, you actually remembered. Where did you kiss me first?**_

He called William. “Oh, I know this one! Patrick’s bedroom!” Gabe shouted cheerfully. “Do you remember where you first kissed me?” William questioned. “You kissed me first, actually. In Pete’s pool. The first time I kissed you was on Spencer’s couch.” Gabe replied, quick as a bullet. Brendon could almost see Gabe’s smirk. “Okay, Patrick’s bedroom where?” Brendon questioned, pulling the attention back to him. “Under his window. You guys were studying together.” William answered.

Brendon nodded to himself, listening through his earbuds as the couple talked. He crept silent as possible into Patrick’s room. Patrick was on his bed, his back to Brendon, his front towards the wall. Brendon’s eyes turned to the window that was on the adjacent wall. Patrick’s bag was on one side, a few shoes on the other side. The spot underneath the window was empty, save for a piece of paper. Brendon glanced at Patrick again before sneaking over and picking it up.

“So what does it say?” William asked. “Nice. You remembered again. I’m impressed. One more. Where was the third place you said you loved me, platonic or otherwise?” Brendon paled. The third place he said he loved him? Oh no. Even William and Gabe seemed hesitant on that one. “Wait! I think I got it! Try the living room! At the couch! Curse him for using thirds.” William answered after two minutes of hesitance. Brendon glanced at Patrick one last time before sneaking out of the room.

“You’re a blessing.” Brendon sighed as he saw the note. He sat down on the couch, opening up the paper. He breathed, closing his eyes before actually looking. When he did, he almost jumped out of his skin, grinning. A squeal escaped him. He was not ashamed to admit that. “What does it say!?” William whined, sounding as excited as Brendon himself. 

_**It’s about time you’ve decided to come clean. I’ve known for a year and a half. You’re not very subtle, B. I love you. The fact that you had to use a note to let me know is a little disheartening.**_

“I should wake him up with kisses. Do you think I should wake him up with kisses?” Brendon asked. His heart was soaring. He was on cloud nine. “I think you should!” Gabe shouted. It sounded like his back was to William. “Totally do it. That’s so cute. Anyways, now that you have answers, good night. We’re going back to sleep.” William said with a smile in his tone. “You’re going to pay me back for waking me up, mi alma.” Gabe sounded a little sultry. Brendon could have thrown up, or listened.

“Ah, yes, you want me to suck your dick as compensation. Love you, Brenny.” William sounded more amused than anything. “Love you too, guys. Thank y’all for the help.” “Anytime, Bren!” Gabe cooed, then the call ended. Brendon crept his way back to Patrick’s room, careful to keep his steps light. He felt like his body was floating. When he pushed open Patrick’s door, the boy hadn’t moved at all.

The brunette walked to the boy’s bed and leaned over, kissing Patrick’s cheek. He did it multiple times. Patrick wasn’t sleeping- Brendon knew by the rigid way he had held himself, by how unnatural his breathing had been. It hadn’t been relaxed. Brendon knew Patrick enough to know how he slept. “I know you’re awake.” Brendon voiced after Patrick didn’t move.

Only then did Patrick open his eyes. His body shifted, leaned, his head turned to look up at Brendon. “Hey.” Patrick’s voice was a little hoarse. “Hey. Can I join you?” Brendon’s voice was soft. Patrick nodded, shifting around so that Brendon could get on the bed too. The brunette did so, crawling up and laying down beside Patrick. He blinked, searching baby blues. He was afraid to be the first to speak. Patrick seemed to be, as well. A hand was daringly placed on Patrick’s waist. When Patrick didn’t fuss, Brendon squeezed gently.

It pulled a smile to Patrick’s face, which made Brendon smile in turn. They were silent for what felt like hours. “Wanna go look at the stars with me?” Brendon finally asked. Patrick nodded, smile widening. So, they climbed up to the roof in a rush. Once finally there, Patrick turned his head to the sky. Brendon turned his head to Patrick, watching aquamarine reflect the moon and stars like miniature pools. “I love you.” Brendon didn’t mean to say it so suddenly. It just kind of happened. 

“I love you too.” The way Patrick said it, so easily, like the words had been resting on his tongue in wait, in anticipation. Diamonds turned to look at him, smile on pink lips. Pretty lips. Pretty enough that Brendon leaned over, tipping Patrick’s head up to kiss him, to capture those pretty lips in Brendon’s chapped ones.

He wasn’t sure which one of them melted into the dance of their lips first. It could have easily been either of them. What he was sure of was that Patrick was on his back and Brendon was over him in a matter of moments. The kiss never changed, though. It didn’t get more heated, it didn’t shift to something seductive. It was more of testing the waters than anything. Figuring out what could and could not be done, what would and would not be accepted. When they finally broke apart, a need for air breaking them away despite Brendon’s determination to simply steal the air for Patrick’s lungs, Brendon only moved back an inch or so.

Their lips still brushed, Brendon could feel Patrick catching his breath. Patrick blinked up at him, though. “Who were you on the phone with?” It was a whispered question, neither of them wanting to break the mood. Brendon laughed, breathy and soft. “I was on the phone with Bill and Gabey.” Patrick smiled, Brendon felt it against his lips. “I knew you didn’t remember that well. What did you remember?” “I remembered where you yelled at me the first time.” Brendon felt a little sheepish saying the words, his gaze turning from Patrick’s. 

“You didn’t remember where you kissed me first?” Patrick’s voice sounded heartbroken. Brendon forced himself to look back at pale aquamarine. “No. I remember how I kissed you first, and where you kissed me first, and how I felt during both, but not where I kissed you first.” Patrick blinked up at him, “Enlighten me.” Brendon laughed again, barely coming out as more than an exhale. He shifted off Patrick and laid beside him, letting his hand come up to play in wispy hair. 

“I remember wrapping an arm around you as a joke. And wishing my heart would stop trying to beat out of my chest. And I remember pulling you close and stealing the softest kiss I could, so you wouldn’t kill me. I remember thinking about it for hours and not being able to stop smiling because I had just kissed the cutest guy in the state. And when you kissed me first, it was on my bed. I was sick, and I told you not to get close to me because I didn’t wanna make you sick. Your stubborn self brought me soup and then when you thought I was asleep you kissed me, and it was so light that it could have been a feather brushing over my lips. But I knew it was you because you had on Chapstick that tasted like vanilla and all I could taste was vanilla and I loved it. And I stole it, so I could pretend that that day never ended and that you kissed me over and over again.” 

“That’s where my Chapstick went!” Patrick exclaimed. His sudden shout somehow didn’t break the moment, simply added to it. Brendon smiled. “Yeah. Sorry.” Patrick didn’t reply, simply tipped his head forward and captured Brendon’s lips in his. It was soft and calm. “I love you.” The words were whispers through the wind that barely floated to Brendon’s ears. He didn’t need to hear them. He could feel them in the way that Patrick was stroking his jaw with a guitar-string calloused thumb. And the way he was breathing. And the way he was looking at Brendon from hooded ultramarine eyes. 

And he knew then that it was okay, how far in he was. How head over heels he was for Patrick was okay. And his response came as breathless as the first time he said it and meant it as more than just platonic.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, @halfsweet , I do apologize for the torture I attacked you with during most of this story.  
> I hope you like this "ending."


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